


Wicked Little Town

by candlejill



Series: Through the Dark Turns and Noise [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, POV Alternating, Pining, Platonic Heterosexual Intercourse, Road Trips, Romanticizing the 90s, Senior year, Slow Burn, UST, Underage Drinking, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Woodstock 94, summer before college
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:35:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 51,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25383928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candlejill/pseuds/candlejill
Summary: In the spring of '94, Eddie confides in Richie his fear of being the last of the Losers to be kissed.Richie offers a solution.His plan leads their friendship through dark turns they never expected to navigate and the summer of a lifetime they know they'll never forget.Until they do.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Through the Dark Turns and Noise [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838323
Comments: 60
Kudos: 235





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is platonic Bev/Richie in this fic.

**Eddie**

“Am I a freak?” Eddie’s breath shakes.

“Of course. Do I not tell you that enough?” Richie nudges his knee against his leg.

Eddie’s bed is small. Nearly too small for him, let alone the both of them, with Richie’s gangly limbs and sharp elbows pressed into his side. Though they make it work. Richie always finds a way to tuck in his lanky body and curl into the too cramped space around Eddie.

Talking to _Richie_ of all people about anything serious is a mistake. He knows better. It wasn’t like he meant to ask him, it just kind of popped out, so Eddie looks away embarrassed. He should have tried Stan. Stan’s like him. Cautious. Anxious. Understanding. But when Richie is calm and it’s just the two of them, he’s a different person. Softer. Kinder. Still a fucking dipshit, but it’s less of a show when they’re alone.

“We’re all freaks,” Richie shrugs. “Well, Bill’s normal. But you, me, Mike, Stan. Ben’s probably the biggest freak of all.”

“No,” Eddie elbows him, _“You’re_ definitely the biggest freak.”

“So then why are you asking _me?_ Obviously I’m going to have some biased opinions on the better qualities of being a freak and I’m taking you down with me, Kaspbrak.”

Sighing, Eddie gives up, “You’re right. Nevermind.” He turns to the side away from him, not wanting to meet Richie’s eyes.

But Richie props himself up on his elbow, “What’s this all about?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing. Just forget it.”

“Eds, come on,” he urges.

“Don’t call me that.” The reply is automatic, mostly a reflex and lacking his normal heat. He doesn’t mind it so much when they’re alone.

“You can talk to me, _Eddie,”_ Richie emphasizes his name before lying back down.

The bed jumps as Eddie moves to flip on his back. Taking a deep breath, he studies the popcorn ceiling of his room and distorted shadows above. It’s dark with only the light from the lamp on his desk filtering through the room. And it’s getting late. Richie should be going home, but Eddie can’t bring himself to ask him to leave.

What he wants to ask Richie really shouldn’t bother him. It’s not a big deal. 

But it _does_ bother him. That’s the whole point. It makes his stomach churn and his fingers twitch so much he can’t hold still, so he reaches out and grabs Richie’s glasses from his face just for something to do. 

“These are fucking disgusting, dude. Do you _ever_ clean them?” He breathes on the lenses, noting vaguely the way they fog up enough to show finger smudges. Wiping them down until they're clean, he can feel Richie watching him but takes comfort in the fact that he’s probably a little fuzzy to his sight. 

“That’s what I have you for,” Richie smiles warmly.

Eddie puts them on his own face. Everything is blurred and warped. It gives him a headache and makes him feel nauseous, but talking to Richie is easier when they’re both blind. 

“Stan made out with that girl,” his face burns as he admits it.

“What? What girl? _Another_ one? Bullshit.” Richie furrows his brow, “Wait, _that’s_ why you’re upset? Was it someone you liked?”

“No!” Eddie sighs, “The one from before.”

“Oh,” Richie furrows his brow. “That was weeks ago. That’s old news.”

“Yeah, but, it’s just-” Eddie shakes his head. He tries to hold himself back, but he can’t, _"I’m_ the only one who hasn’t kissed anyone! Even Ben did at that stupid camp he went to last year. And it’s not like I even _want_ to, but I feel like I’m being left behind again. There’s so much that I already miss out on. My mom’s a fucking nightmare this year, she’s fucking terrified of me going to college, but _this_ is something I can control. Like, there isn’t even anyone I want to kiss, okay? I can’t think of a single fucking girl I’d want to have put their gross tongue in my mouth. It’s fucking disgusting. But I’m sick of not knowing what it’s like! You guys have all done it and I’m going off to school as the biggest loser of all of us!”

Richie pauses, then says carefully, “You’re upset because you haven’t had your first kiss?”

“Yeah,” he replies weakly. It’s out now. Richie can murder him for it.

Richie is quiet. 

He’s _too_ quiet. Eddie can hear his heart pound, and it’s the silence that’s driving him crazy now. The wait before the ridicule. He’s shown his soft underbelly and Richie’s about to go in for the kill. Richie’s going to tear him apart, and Eddie can _feel_ him revelling in the calm moment before his attack. 

Eddie opens his mouth in a pre-defensive strike, right as Richie says, “I’m sure we could find someone who’ll kiss you if it’s really that big of a deal.” 

He’s taken aback by Richie’s gentle tone, then shakes himself out of it, “Who the hell is going to kiss me?! I’m short and ugly and have beady stupid eyes and everyone knows I’m a freak because I’m not allowed to go anywhere or do anything everyone else does! What girl is gonna want to come anywhere near me?”

“You’re not ugly, dude” Richie nudges him with his shoulder. “What about Kathy? She’s a slut. She’ll suck face with you for sure.”

Grimacing, Eddie jabs his elbow into Richie, “Gross. Kathy VanBach? And what, get like, AIDS? She fucked the entire junior _and_ senior class!”

Richie’s quiet for a moment before snapping his fingers, “Bianca? She’d go for it. She has a soft spot for dweebs. I could talk to her for you.”

Bianca isn’t a bad suggestion. She’s pretty and has always been nice to him in Calculus, starting conversations and getting him to laugh about their classmates. But he shakes his head because she’s always blabbing about everyone in school. “No, I don’t want anyone to know. Like, what, _Please make out with Eddie because he’s a pathetic virgin and can’t talk to you himself!_ No! The whole school will find out.”

Richie’s quiet again and even though he’s being nice, it’s unnerving. Eddie doesn’t even know why he told him in the first place, or what he expects him to do about it. He thinks again that he definitely should have gone to Stan. Maybe he’s hoping Richie will ease up on the teasing now that he understands how much it bothers him. It cuts too deep and he doesn’t need the reminder of how pitiful he is. He sees it everyday reflected back as he obeys every little order his mother gives him.

He’s trying not to rebel too much in his last year. He’s so close to being gone from Derry forever. Or at least far enough away from the constant suffocation. He can deal with her batshit crazy strict hovering knowing there are only a few months left. 

“I’ll kiss you, Eds,” Richie’s voice is so soft, he wonders if he imagined it. 

And, for a moment, Eddie doesn’t comprehend what Richie said. Like it’s in another language, he tries to decipher the words. Richie could kiss him? _Richie_ would kiss _him?_ The silence between them is deafening, ringing in his ears like after a gunshot and he’s waiting for the world to make sense. Eddie takes far too long, actually considering it. Could he kiss Richie? Could he let Richie put his lips on him? Put his tongue in his mouth? The thought of it should make him sick, but his stomach jumps in a thrill as he imagines how it might feel to be the reason for Richie to finally shut the hell up for once.

Then he realizes Richie’s probably just fucking with him, being an asshole to tease him once again. To cover his ass, Eddie hurries to reply, “Yeah, fuck off, Richie. I’m serious, okay? I don’t want to go to college being the only one who hasn’t had their first fucking kiss yet. I can deal with being a virgin, but god, not even a kiss? How fucking pathetic is that?” He closes his eyes. Richie’s glasses are giving him a headache but he likes how they shield him from the world.

Richie’s breath is shaky when he says, “I _am_ serious. Kissing isn’t that big of a deal, okay? It’s not. It’s kind of boring even. So, I’ll take one for the team, you can see there’s nothing to it, and then get on with your life. I’ll even tell the rest of the guys I saw you macking on some hottie in the arcade so everyone will lay off.”

And Eddie’s insane because he actually considers it. Like, really considers it. Yeah. Yeah, it might not be so bad. He’s never really minded how Richie slots himself next to him wherever they go. Being close never bothered him. And it’s not like Richie’s going to tell anyone, because he’ll seem just as- 

“That’s gay, dude,” Eddie shakes the thought from his head.

Richie replies, “It’s not gay. We’re not touching dicks or anything. Lips, tongues, girls have the same parts. It’s the same thing. This way whenever you do kiss a girl you’ll know what to do.”

He fishes for any reason to tell him no. They _shouldn’t._ Eddie _knows_ they shouldn’t, but he can’t really place why. Richie’s a boy. They’re both boys, _that’s_ why. 

But he’s right. Lips _aren’t_ any different. And if Richie kisses him then maybe he’ll have more confidence for the real thing. He won’t be unprepared when he’s with a girl. He’ll know what to do. 

And maybe a small part of him is curious to know what it’s like to kiss him.

Richie says it’s not that big of a deal anyway. 

“Okay,” he whispers softly. 

“Really?!” Richie sounds surprised when he says it.

Eddie’s hand cuts through the air and he tries to sit, “If you’re fucking with me, Richie, I’m gonna kick you so fucking hard in the nuts, I swear to fucking god!” 

Richie beats him to it, pinning him in place, “I’m not!”

Eddie stills, lying back down, feeling the weight of Richie’s hands on his shoulders, “You won’t tell anyone?” His heart pounds hard as he watches the blurry figure in front of him and he vaguely wonders if he should reach for his inhaler. He can breathe just fine but the weight of it would be comforting in his hand.

“I swear. We don’t even have to talk about it ever again,” his voice is so gentle.

Nodding, Eddie says, “Okay, just hurry up. Get it over with.” He squeezes his eyes closed tight and almost turns away as he feels his bed move. A shadow passes over him and he knows Richie is hovering above him.

“Oh, geez, thanks. Be sure to say that to Bianca too whenever you get the balls to swap spit with her.”

“Are we doing this or not?!” Eddie’s heart is still racing. He’s sick of talking. He just wants it to be over.

Richie sighs, “Hey, I’m the one doing _you_ a favor here!”

Eddie opens one eye and watches stiffly as Richie reaches out and takes his glasses off of his face. He doesn’t return them to his own, though. 

“If you don’t chill the fuck out this is gonna suck,” Richie adds.

For some reason that’s the moment it hits him. He’s lying on his bed with Richie fucking Tozier above him waiting for him to kiss him because he’s too afraid to just talk to a fucking girl. And it’s all too much. He can’t do it. Everything feels tight and he just needs some air-

“Calm down,” Richie insists firmly again. Commanding, with no hint of a joke in sight. Richie grabs at Eddie’s left wrist, lifting it over his head. It’s a little awkward until he traces the scar on his palm and looks at him intently, “Take a deep breath.” 

He’s so fucking confident, like he knows what he’s doing. But maybe he does? Maybe he’s not all talk. Maybe there are threads of truth weaved throughout his stories while he’s bragging about the women he’s with. 

Eddie nods and slows his breathing as Richie’s finger soothes over the toughened skin on his hand. Richie does this sometimes, lightly touching the whitened rough line on his palm until Eddie shivers. It always calms him down. A distraction. A tether pulling him back to himself from whatever has him spiraling out in his mind. But it’s never been like this before.

Taking another deep breath, he looks back up at him and he thinks, with how long Richie’s hair is and the way it’s falling, if Eddie closes his eyes he can pretend he’s a girl. Then it’ll be okay. His eyes are so dark in the dim light of the room and he looks so different without those stupid bottle eyeglasses. But Eddie’s calm now and blinks his eyes closed, nodding at Richie to get on with it. 

Holding his breath, he feels Richie’s hand lift away from his own just as their noses graze. He recognizes it for the small warning it is. One last chance to push him away before it’s too late. But he doesn’t and their lips touch. Feather soft, delicate and barely there, and it’s driving Eddie crazy because Richie’s being so precious with him, and that's not the kind of kiss he meant. So he pushes forward, firmly pressing together, and wonders if Richie can hear the sound of his heart beating beneath his chest. 

Richie presses back, closed-mouthed, still so chaste, but it’s undeniable now, they’re kissing. Richie is kissing him.

When he feels Richie’s tongue trace along the seam of his lips, he gasps softly, immediately blushing from the intimacy, but Richie doesn’t notice because he’s licking into his mouth. He tastes familiar in a way Eddie doesn’t understand, he makes him shiver when his tongue so gently touches the tip of his own, dipping in so cautiously like he’s just as terrified as Eddie, though he can’t be, he’s done it countless times. 

It should be filthy, having Richie’s tongue in his mouth, mixing spit, and who knows the last time he even brushed his teeth let alone his _tongue._ But he tastes like _Richie_ , warm and safe, and when Richie laves in further against Eddie, he suddenly understands why people do this. 

It feels so fucking good.

The way their tongues slip carefully alongside one another, silky, timid motions, like they both know they shouldn’t be doing it. It feels obscene to have Richie so close, _inside_ him, breathing shaky through his nose in short, scared puffs.

But then Richie stops. He pulls away, and Eddie’s briefly chasing after him not ready for it to end. 

Richie’s saying, “Wait, can we just-” 

He lifts his knee and pushes at Eddie’s hip until he realizes Richie’s trying to get him to scoot over, more centered on the bed. He moves quickly, anything to get those lips back on his, and Richie is suddenly straddling his hips without putting down his weight, looking down at him again, like he’s waiting for Eddie to freak the fuck out. And Eddie doesn’t know why he’s not. 

“Okay?” Richie whispers, adjusting his pants. 

But Eddie’s not paying attention because it’s so weird to see him without his glasses, looking at him like that, eyebrows high in question, no cutting remarks or distasteful jokes. And Eddie knows those lips he’s glancing at are going to be against his again. Soon. Though, not soon enough. He can’t say a thing, untrusting of his voice, so he just nods, because more than anything he wants Richie to shut up and kiss him.

“I hope that’s a ‘yes,’” Richie’s leaning in again over top of him, “Because I’m blind as fuck right now.”

“Yes,” he squeaks. 

And Richie does huff a laugh at him for that. Instead of kissing him, he asks, “Eds, do you want the full lip-locking service or do you want to keep this PG?” Richie teases him tenderly, a barely-there brush of his lips over Eddie’s, a promise of what’s to come.

“Whatever,” Eddie shivers, out of breath and he really shouldn’t be. “Any- all of, whatever. Just, you know-” he laughs nervously.

“‘Placebo’ is your safeword,” he winks.

“‘Placebo?’” Eddie swallows nervously. 

“Yeah, you know, like the band?” 

“Wait, _safeword?!”_

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” Richie teases. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you. Won’t push it past PG-13.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie huffs.

“Oh, Eddie,” Richie smirks, “That’ll definitely get us an X-rating.”

“Just shut the hell up already!”

“I love it when you sweet talk me, Eds.”

Before he can protest again, Richie’s hands are framing his face and this time the kiss is different. He’s forceful, opening his mouth, pushing his tongue inside and Eddie tries to meet it back with equal intensity. Fighting against him, until one of Richie’s hands move to his hair and his blunt nails are scratching at his scalp, making him shiver. 

Richie’s hair is long enough to fall around them, a curtain to hide from the world outside of Eddie’s tiny room. He feels safe there with Richie, who’s holding his jaw and scratching his head, pulling his hair just enough to make him gasp which Richie takes full advantage of by plundering his mouth, soothing inside with his tongue. Eddie thinks he could live forever in that moment with Richie above him, tasting him, making him tremble. Reaching his hand out, he feels Richie’s hair, how soft it is. Then Richie changes pace again, sucking slowly on Eddie’s tongue, then lapping against it with a smile. Blunt teeth scratch against his bottom lip and Richie is sucking it into his mouth.

Eddie moans, hardly caring enough to be embarrassed.

Richie turns his head to the side and kisses along his jaw. And Eddie wants to cry because it’s not nearly as much fun as before, until Richie bites playfully at his exposed neck. It’s hard enough to shock him and just on the right side of painful. 

Gasping, squeezing his eyes closed, Eddie pushes up against Richie who’s only teasing him with his tongue then blowing cool air. He trembles from the top of his scalp and relishes as it filters down through his limbs, until Richie is biting and sucking on his neck with a pressure that's sending hot waves through his entire body. Richie still has his hand fisted in Eddie’s hair, pulling it just right to expose the length of skin he’s after on his neck as he bites and soothes and sucks at tender flesh.

Eddie feels wrecked. It’s not enough and it’s too much all at once.

“Fuck, Rich,” Eddie sighs and he can’t help the way his hips jolt up, noticing for the first time how damnedably hard he is and _Shit!_ he can’t hide _that_ from Richie, now that dicks are getting involved. This is definitely getting gay, and it’s _not supposed_ to be gay, and what if Richie finds out? 

“Gazebo!” He cries, panic burning on his tongue which Richie had just so nicely soothed moments earlier. 

“What?” Richie leans up, confused.

“Placebo!” Eddie corrects. Richie starts to pull back, to sit more properly on top of Eddie, which if he does he’ll definitely notice his boner, so Eddie cries, “Wait!”

“Givin’ me some mixed signals here, Ed.”

Taking a deep breath, Eddie says, “I just, you know, think I have the idea is all. Like, definitely will know what to do when the real thing comes along.”

Richie frowns at that, which Eddie doesn’t quite understand. 

Climbing off of him, he lies back on Eddie’s bed, fishing his glasses from underneath his back to put them on. Eddie turns to the side away from him, to tuck his erection into the band of his pants before lying on his back next to Richie who’s still pressed tightly along his side.

“We okay?” Richie asks. He sounds nervous.

“Yeah, I mean, with your long hair it was easy to pretend you were a girl,” Eddie teases.

“Why’d you think I kept my glasses off, dickwad? So I wouldn’t have to see your stupid face.” 

“Shut up,” Eddie kicks him in the shin. 

Listening to the sounds of their breathing, Eddie feels at ease. Maybe there _was_ a reason everyone was so obsessed with girls. 

Richie clears his throat, “It’s getting late.”

“Yeah,” Eddie whispers back.

The bed shakes as Eddie watches Richie sit up and climb out of it. Reluctant to leave the comfort of his bed, Eddie forces himself to walk over to the window Richie is opening.

“You could go out the front door, you know. My mom’s probably sleeping.”

Winking at him, Richie says, “Come on, Eds. How many more chances am I gonna have to climb out? Let me revel in the most innocent of teenage rebellions while I can.” With a smile, he watches as Richie crawls out his window, but before he climbs down he sticks his head back in, “Eddie, come ‘ere!”

“What?” He walks closer, crossing his arms across his chest, feeling too exposed. Richie motions for him to crouch lower, so he does, face-to-face with Richie, the familiar too-big eyes, and his floppy hair blowing softly from the breeze outside, smiling back at him.

“We’ll never talk about it again if that’s what you want,” Richie repeats. Eddie almost doesn’t know what he means, and then he’s being pulled forward from the fist grasped tight in his shirt. 

Richie’s kissing him again.

Eddie opens his mouth without thinking, pushing back with his tongue, fighting for one last moment, because it feels so good and Richie knows exactly what he’s doing. 

It doesn’t last long because Richie pulls away far too quickly.

With one last smile he whispers, “You’re a natural.” He gives him another wink then sneaks down the side of his house before Eddie has a chance to reply.

This isn’t how he expected his night to go. There’s an undercurrent bubbling beneath him that knows it is more than a little fucked up. He knows he should brush his teeth but can’t bring himself to wash the taste of Richie from his mouth so soon, so he lies down on his bed. He thinks about Bill and Stan and Mike and Ben. And he goes through each one, trying to imagine kissing them like he just kissed Richie. 

And it makes him feel sick. 

He thinks of Bev and figures she wouldn’t be so bad, then curses to himself for not thinking of her earlier. She might have actually helped him out the way Richie did, and he’s an idiot for not considering her sooner. 

Maybe he could have avoided this whole thing?

Is that what he’d want?

Turning on his side, he drives thoughts of her from his mind to focus on the dark mop of hair, tickling over his face, and the pressure of Richie against him. His bed still smells like him, and Eddie smiles as he falls asleep, hoping absently to dream of him. 

**Richie**

The best thing about being eighteen is the car his parents gave him on his birthday. The car itself isn’t the greatest, definitely has some miles and some dents, but it runs well enough and Richie appreciates it more than ever as he drives away from Eddie’s that night.

In a stunned silence, he forgets to turn on the radio and is forced, instead, to listen to his own thoughts screaming back at him. 

_Holy fucking shit. Did that really happen? What the fuck? What the fucking fuck?! Holy shit._

He almost drives past his own house and has to slam on the brakes before passing.

The next day at school he is on edge. Legs bouncing under his desk, he can’t sit still on a normal day but now he’s amped on adrenalyn. Richie is already aching from the distance of the kiss. Every passing second is another moment farther away from the taste of Eddie. It hasn’t even been twenty four hours but with the knowledge that it will never happen again, his chest aches. 

It feels like it’s all slipping by. Like it had never happened. 

And Eddie has the nerve to act entirely normal at school. 

Richie studies him with a keen eye, hoping he might give something away. Maybe Eddie is like _him,_ maybe he likes boys too. He must at least a little if he agreed to kiss Richie.

But he gives nothing away. He laughs easily with Stan and brushes against Richie in the hallway like it’s a normal day. Like the single most significant moment between them, not involving threats of death, had never happened, because Eddie isn’t blushing when he looks at him. He’s not stumbling over words or avoiding Richie’s eyes.

So Richie, doing what he does best, pushes him. Hopes to find any sort of crack in his calm exterior to betray Eddie's facade. Any kind of proof that he feels the same deep down.

Richie drops his tray hard next to Eddie’s packed lunch and immediately begins singing as the remaining Losers sit in their usual spots (everyone except Bev who only returns for visits and Mike who technically graduated since he tested out of his homeschooling).

_“Baby, baby, baby, won't you pluck my grapes? Won't you peel my banana like a pack of wild apes?”_

“That’s disgusting,” Eddie glares back, banana in hand.

“With that wanton display of mastication and such a phallic fruit in your hand, you gotta expect some _Food Innuendo Guy_ references, Eddie,” Richie slaps him on his back. 

“Mastur- _what?_ What do you think I’m doing with this banana?" Eddie chokes. “No. I don’t wanna know.” He drops it on his bag.

 _“Mastication,”_ Richie enunciates while the rest of the guys laugh heartily. “It means chewing and shit. We all know where your mind is at, though.”

He picks it up again but is reluctant to take another bite, which makes Richie smile wider as Eddie continues to glare back at him. A small victory, which he’ll take, but still no blushing cheeks and no avoiding eye contact. It makes Richie’s heart drop smiling back, so he turns away first, tucking into his own lunch.

When he sees out of the corner of his eye that Eddie is eating again, he asks around his own food, “Did you tell them?” He nods to the others.

Eddie drops his hand with the banana to the table again and when Richie looks at him he can see he’s blushing now. A grin stretches from the small victory.

“Tell them what?” He panics.

Richie knows Eddie thinks he’s talking about The Kiss. And he is, but not how Eddie thinks. Turning to face him with a full smile, enjoying every second of Eddie squirming in his seat, he decides to tease him. _“You_ know,” he nudges. Richie debates puckering up his lips but thinks better of it. “Last night?” He does wink at him, though.

“What h-happened last night?” Bill asks, furrowing his brow.

Richie chews his food obnoxiously with his mouth open, “Huh, Eddie? You wanna tell ‘em or should I?”

Eddie looks like he’s going to puke, so at least Richie knows that the memory is mutual and not some fever dream Richie made up in a delirious state.

“Tell them? What the fuck do I have to tell them? _I_ don’t have anything to tell them!”

Laughing, Richie waggles his brows, “Not what I’d say!”

“What is it?” Ben leans in smiling.

“Nothing!” Eddie cries, “Nothing happened!”

Richie chuckles and opens his mouth.

“Richie, don’t-” and he sounds actually pained now, grabbing at his arm. 

Dropping his smile, he hates to let the game go but he can see Eddie’s ready to run. So he lifts his hands defensively, “Fine. Fine. I won’t tell them how I caught you macking on some total betty in the arcade.” 

Eddie’s shoulders drop, sighing in relief.

 _“What?”_ Bill says, leaning in.

“Who?!” Stan asks.

“Yeah, who?” Ben repeats.

“That’s what I wanted to know,” Richie leans back. “Told me it was someone he met at the pharmacy and that she had cousins in town. I said he was fuckin’ lucky that she didn’t know how much of nerd he is.”

“No way,” Stan leans back, crossing his arms, “I don’t believe it.”

“I wouldn’t either had I not seen it with my own four eyes!” Richie wiggles his glasses. “Tall brunette, taller than Eds. Legs for days. Small tits, though,” he smirks at Eddie as he vaguely describes himself.

Eddie gives him an uneasy smile, “Yeah, you know. It just kind of happened.”

“Well,” Ben smiles at him, “Congratulations?”

“Are you g-gonna see her again?” Bill asks.

Shaking his head, Eddie answers, “No, she wasn’t staying in town long.”

“I can’t believe you weren’t grossed out,” Stan laughs.

“He was all up in there, tongue in her mouth, swapping spit, hand in her hair. Frankly, it was borderline obscene. I think I even saw her latch onto his neck!” Richie reaches for his collar and pulls it to the side to reveal a hickey, bruised dark against the pale of Eddie’s skin.

Richie freezes when he sees it. He remembers doing it but to witness actual, tangible evidence of what they’d done together takes his breath away. _He_ did that to Eddie. He kissed him, licking the salt from his skin until he bruised the delicate flesh. He remembers too vividly the way he felt Eddie’s pulse beneath his tongue. It made him feel invincible. 

The guys around the table cheer and laugh and congratulate Eddie with the proof of it.

Embarrassed, Eddie pulls his shirt out of Richie’s hand to cover it. “Shut the fuck up." 

Richie would kill for another chance to see it. To see how he marked him.

“I kind of thought you were lying,” Stan smiles.

“Would _I_ lie about that?” Richie says, far too easily.

Ben wonders, “I thought maybe if she was staying in town you would ask her to the dance?”

“Shit, there’s a dance?” Richie asks.

“Friday,” Ben replies.

“Fuck. Well, we’re not going, right guys?” Richie scratches absently at his forehead.

“I asked Rachel and she said yes,” Stan smiled proudly.

“The one you were making out with? She’s desperate enough for another go?” Richie teases. 

Stan rolls his eyes. “Bill’s bringing Becky K. and she has a friend that agreed to bring Mike, since he can’t get in unless he has a date that goes here.”

“Well, fuck. It’s just me, Eds, and Ben holding down the fort in Bachelor City.”

"Don't call me that," Eddie kicks Richie's foot under the table.

“Actually-” Ben says, “Melanie in History class has a dress, but her date’s grandma died and has to leave town for the funeral. So, I offered and she said yes.”

“I see how it is, guys,” Richie nods. Wrapping his arm around Eddie’s shoulder, trying to push down the thrill he feels from being so close, he says, “Leaving me and Eddie in the dust? Jokes on you, then. We don’t need to be weighed down by one woman. We'll be drowning in pussy at the dance. Right Eddie?”

Eddie pushes his arm off his shoulder, “I asked Bianca in Calc. Looks like you’re on your own, Rich.”

He feels bile rise but quickly swallows it down. Instead he slaps Eddie on the back, “Look at Mr. Big-Man-On-Campus, here! Setting the ladies up and knockin’ ‘em back one-by-one. I’m proud of you, kid.”

“Shut up,” Eddie rolls his eyes.

“You gonna ask someone, Rich?” Bill asks.

“Fuck, I guess I have to now. And she’s gonna blow all your dates out of the water! Prepare to be jealous as fuck.”

“Who are you gonna ask?” Eddie says.

“Nope. That’s my business. You just wait and see,” Richie smirks trying his best not to shit bricks in front of them all.

That evening when he gets home he paces in front of the phone a few times before dialing Collect. When it comes time for him to enter his name, he channels his Inner-Eddie to speak as quickly as possible, _“It’sRichie. Wannagotoadancewithme? Callback!”_ He lets the call go through and then waits for a few rings before hanging up. He continues to pace, hoping she got the message and will return his call.

It seems like forever before the ring comes through. 

Picking it up he hears the robotic tone of the operator say, _“You have a call from-”_ then her familiar voice, _“You’re An-idiot.”_ The recording continues, _“Would you like to accept the call?”_

“Yes!” Richie answers impatiently.

 _“Hey, loser,”_ Bev teases gently.

Richie sighs, feeling relieved to hear her voice. “Hey, we miss you, Bev. How about a visit?”

_“You said something about a dance?”_

“Yeah, this Friday. I thought it would be fun to surprise the guys. You wanna be my date?”

 _“How the hell am I going to get there, doofus? I’m like two hours away by car. Much farther by bike.”_ Richie can hear her soft laugh and it instantly puts him at ease. 

“I’ll pick you up, duh.” He twirls the cord of the phone around his finger. If he can’t convince Beverly to go with him then he knows he’s shit out of luck. And he doesn’t want to be the only one not going to the dance with a date. “I got a car for my birthday and I’ve been dying to put some miles on it.”

 _“Hmm,”_ she says carefully. _“I dunno, Rich. The thought of you behind the wheel is pretty terrifying.”_

“Awe, come on! I’ll pay you in smokes, huh? Enough to buy an array of tacky Joe Camel merch from the catalogue. I know you have your heart set on a beer cozy.”

_“You’re payin’ me, now? You must really be desperate for a date.”_

“I am desperate for the company of one Miss Marsh. And _also_ I’m the only one without a date. Even Mike’s going.” 

_“So, you’re not secretly in love with me?”_

Richie laughs, “Yeah, you wish, Bev. I know you’ve been pining over my ass for years but this man cannot be tamed. I’m sorry. Not gonna happen!” 

She laughs then grows serious when she says quietly, _“I don’t want to stay at his house.”_

“You don’t have to see your dad at all. You can stay here. We have plenty of rooms, take your pick. I’ll bring you back Saturday night. Tell your aunt you won’t miss school.” She’s quiet so Richie adds, “Come on, Bev! Derry’s not the same without you. It’s been a few months since you were back.”

_“Yeah, okay, Richie.”_

Richie pumps his fist in the air, “Thanks Bev!” 

He writes down directions to get to her aunt’s house. He’ll have to ditch his last class in order to pick her up on time, but it will be worth it to walk into the dance with Bev on his arm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The band Placebo is referenced anachronistically in this fic (a few years too early).
> 
> Food Innuendo Guy by Adam Sandler (They're All Gonna Laugh at You!)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is one of two playlists](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLnAjBQAstdJ6sGmSwcrBRZwHUgzFJdKxE) for the songs in this fic.

**Eddie**

Eddie can’t stop himself from staring at the clock. He can practically hear the ticking over _American Gladiators_ his mom has playing on the television. Richie is almost late, not quite but _almost,_ and if he _is_ late, that means they'll be late picking up Bianca for which Eddie will definitely kill him. The story he told him was that Richie had to pick up his own date, insisting he wasn’t going to tell anyone who she was. Eddie had a strong suspicion that he couldn’t find one and Richie would be rolling up to his house alone. And the thought of Richie third wheeling on his date with Bianca, even if he is his ride, makes him more than a little angry.

But three minutes before he’s due the car is honking outside and Eddie jumps from his seat.

“Curfew is 11:00 PM, Mister. Don’t think I won’t come looking for you.”

Taking a deep breath, he replies, “Yes, Ma.” Giving her a short peck on the cheek, he runs out the door before she changes her mind.

“Took you long enough, asshole!” He complains to the rolled down window, but as Eddie is about to pull the front door open, a freckled elbow pops through.

“Hey there, Eddie.”

“Bev!” Eddie cries, in genuine delight. “What the hell?”

“Get in,” she nods to the back.

Eddie hurries inside, slamming the door shut behind him, just as Richie says, “Told you my date would have all yours beat.” Then he wraps his arm around Bev in a loose embrace, and she tucks in along his side.

A pang of annoyance settles in his gut at the sight of them so close, but he pushes it down. “Fuck, it’s good to see you, Bev.”

“You too,” she smiles.

“Where’s Bianca live?” Richie asks, removing his arm from Bev’s shoulder, much to Eddie’s relief. He puts the car in drive as Eddie lists off her address.

“I can’t believe you came all the way down here for some stupid dance,” Eddie shakes his head.

“You know Bev would never turn down the opportunity to go on a date with yours truly,” Richie smirks.

“We on a date now, Trashmouth?” Bev replies dryly. “News to me.”

“I mean, I _am_ planning on making you breakfast in the morning-” Richie winks.

Something in Eddie’s stomach clenches uneasily at that. The idea of Richie and Beverly together like that _feels_ wrong, even if it’s a joke. But she’s smiling so brightly at him and he’s smiling back. They _look_ like they belong together, they always have. Like they spoke another language from the rest of the group. Somehow Richie becomes cool when Bev is around. Eddie hasn’t figured out how the transformation happens. 

It always makes Eddie feel like Richie's outgrown him. 

“Oh! And your cigarettes are in the glove box,” Richie points.

“Ah! Jackpot!” Bev takes out a pack and lights one, blowing the smoke out the window as Richie continues to cruise. 

“Put that out before Bianca gets in! It smells disgusting. I don’t know why you guys still do that. You know how bad it is for you? Gonna fuckin’ die of lung disease.”

“One less year to deal with, eh Bev?” Richie smiles wistfully.

Bev taps the ashes and nods back, “If only we could be so fortunate.”

Eddie shakes his head, _Like being dead is cool now?_

They reach Bianca’s, and Richie stops his car outside of her house. Eddie knows he has to go in, but he’s too nervous. He feels butterflies fluttering and his heart beats too hard.

“Come on, Eds. This is the easy part. The hard part is keeping her happy the rest of the night.”

And, shit. Eddie really hadn't thought about that. He didn’t think much beyond asking her to the dance and he was honestly surprised she said yes at all. 

“You got this, Eds,” Beverly says.

He wants to chastise her for the name but instead he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Getting out of the car and walking to her door is less painful than he anticipates. Ringing the doorbell takes balls, he admits. Being pulled inside for pictures is excruciating. But then they are walking back to Richie’s car. He debates opening the door for her, not knowing if he should, but she walks ahead and climbs into the backseat. Sighing in relief, he walks around to the other side, slamming the door behind him as he sits next to her.

“Bianca, are you friends with Melanie or Becky K?” Richie asks.

“Melanie’s cool,” Bianca nods. “Becky’s a cunt.”

Richie bellows with laughter in the front, “Eddie, you have great taste in women!” His laughter seems to ease the tension between everyone in the car, which Eddie is grateful for. 

It’s infectious, and they all laugh along as Bianca shares a rumor she heard about Becky stuffing her bra. It’s not the most salacious of stories, but the way she delivers it has the three of them in fits of giggles the rest of the way to the school.

“She used to pinch me in ballet class when we were kids and I’ve held a grudge ever since,” Bianca admits. “She’s probably not actually that bad.”

“Well, you get to find out. She’s Bill’s date,” Richie explains.

Bianca grabs onto Eddie’s arm and says softly, only for him to hear, “Maybe we can head out on our own for a bit, if she gets too obnoxious?”

He understands the suggestion and it makes his heart pound. Replying is too hard, so he just nods, wide eyed in agreement. She gives him a sly smile back.

Through the rearview mirror Eddie makes eye contact with Richie. Thinking of the night they kissed is unavoidable. The way Richie made him feel, the way his body responded to it, Eddie has been desperate to relive it. And knowing Bianca may be down for a little action genuinely excites him. The underlying fear and disgust faded once he learned to anticipate how good it could feel to have someone pressed close.

And Richie was right, he did feel more confident now. 

Richie parks his car in the lot and they all clamber out.

Sweat is beading on his lower back as he walks into the gym with Bianca on his arm. The music is loud, he can feel the bass pumping in his chest, making him feel like he needs to reach for his inhaler. She excuses herself to find the bathroom and he smiles, saying he’ll wait for her by the tables off to the side. Mike, Bill, Ben, and Stan are gathered already with their dates.

All of the guys jump up when they see Bev and give her a hug. He notices none of their dates look too pleased about that.

Eddie’s still sweating, wondering how he’s going to make the first move as he takes a seat. He so desperately wants to feel what Richie made him feel, and can’t imagine how much better it’s going to be with a girl. That was his entire motivation in inviting Bianca to the dance. It gives him a perfect excuse to maybe try out a few moves, if she’s into it. But now being here, with the music and the crowd, he knows he’ll be too nervous to follow through. 

While Bev is talking to the other guys, Richie pulls up a chair and puts an arm on Eddie’s shoulder saying, “It’s just a dance, Eddie. Have fun.”

“Yeah, easy for you to say.”

“Because I have the hottest date here?” Richie smiles.

And yeah, Bev’s effortlessly attractive. Eddie knows that. She’s beautiful in a way that feels unknowable. Eddie leans in for only Richie to hear, “Why didn’t I ask her?”

“To the dance?”

“No,” he looks at Richie, imploring him to understand. “About, the _other_ thing. She would have helped, right?”

Richie’s smile falters, “Come on, Ed. Don’t act like you didn’t love every second.” He nudges him with his elbow.

Eddie teases back, “Yeah, you wish.”

But something about the crestfallen way Richie is looking at him makes Eddie regret bringing it up at all.

“Does she like you? I mean- you know what I mean,” Eddie asks.

“No one can resist my charm. You should know that,” he winks. “She _is_ sleeping over and I _did_ promise her breakfast.”

Eddie’s blushing, but it’s dark and probably just the heat from the bodies on the dance floor. “Are you going to have sex with her?” He doesn’t know why he asks. Maybe he’s jealous. Just another milestone for everyone to reach before him. Maybe somehow he could talk Bianca into fooling around in Richie’s car before he brings her home.

Richie stands. He grabs Eddie’s hand, squeezing his palm with his scar as he pulls him up from his seat, then again wraps his arm around Eddie’s shoulder. Walking them closer to the rest of the Losers, he leans in for only Eddie to hear, “You know I don’t kiss and tell.”

And something about the way he says it makes Eddie’s heart leap. Richie’s giving him a knowing look and an easy smile and Eddie wishes he could say something to keep the comforting weight around his shoulders. 

But then Richie drops him too easily and walks over to Bev.

Smiling brightly, he extends his arm, “May I have this dance?”

And fuck Richie for his ability to be suave when it suits him. Everyone knows he’s the biggest fucknut of the group, but over the years he’s grown up, and next to Beverly it’s obvious. Eddie glares at them as he walks Bev out to the dance floor and as they effortlessly sway to the music. 

Richie’s actually very good out there and now Eddie’s nerves are back all over again.

Eddie finds Stan and follows him to sit heavily at the table. 

“Why are you in such a bad mood?” Stan asks.

“I’m not. I’m just waiting for Bianca.” When she comes back she’ll be expecting to join them on the dance floor and Eddie doesn’t know how to dance with a girl. He hadn’t thought that part through, much. “Where’s Rachel?” he asks Stan. 

“Getting punch.”

“Shouldn’t you be doing that?”

“Guess I got caught up talking to Bev,” he gives him a sheepish smile.

They sit in companionable silence until their dates return. Bianca sits next to Eddie, they make small talk, discuss class and gossip about the people in it. Eddie can tell Bianca’s feeling restless so when the music finally slows down enough, he asks, “Do you want to-”

She smiles wide, beautiful white teeth shining back at him. Eddie can feel himself blushing all over again as she stands up and reaches for his hand. He takes it and she leads him to the dance floor where they find a spot next to Richie and Bev.

Bev is nestled in so close to him, it seems so natural the way Richie’s arms are protective around her. It’s nice, in a way, to know they care for each other so deeply. What happened to them as children will be ingrained upon all of them for their lives, and Eddie understands the comfort Bev is trying to seek in Richie. Eddie knows how he can make you feel and doesn’t blame her for desiring it. 

He’s briefly jealous it can’t be him feeling that same ease, but before he analyses the thought Bianca is grabbing his arms and places his hands on her hips. She wraps her own around his neck and pulls him in close. Much closer than he is expecting, her breasts are nearly touching his chest and he’s fighting the urge not to look down at them. His arms are holding her tight against his own body. They’re about the same height but she finds a way to nuzzle her head against his as they sway to the slow song. He briefly feels appreciative that she’s not taller than him.

It feels nice.

Absently, he watches the way Bev’s head is leaning into Richie’s. It’s natural how he nudges back against her, how his arms are wrapped around her like he belongs there. He whispers something into her ear and she laughs, kissing him briefly on the cheek. She catches Eddie’s eye and gives him a wink.

He tries to smile back, but he’s not sure if he manages it. Trying instead to focus on Bianca, her long brown hair tickles at the side of his face. It’s more coarse than Richie’s, but it smells like flowers and he leans into it. Bianca’s so close to him and so warm. He pulls away a little and grazes his nose along hers. Just like Richie showed him. 

The courage he summons is left over adrenalyn of the night with Richie. Meeting her eyes, he wordlessly asks if it’s okay as he leans back in, she nods to meet him, and Eddie kisses her, chaste and slow, right on the dancefloor. Her lips are much softer than Richie’s but she’s also more timid. Lighter press of the lips. Until her mouth opens for him readily, but when he meets her tongue he doesn’t feel the same electricity as he had with Richie. She pushes in farther and tries to speed up the pace, but the motions feel wrong. Like she’s doing it rote, and not at all because it’s in the moment. Eddie feels like he needs to fight to slow her down. To relish it and enjoy the soft breaths on their cheeks as they lean into the music. But Bianca keeps pushing, too forceful now, and no skill. So Eddie brings his hand up, frames her face, and once again tries to slow her demanding pace.

He just wants it to be like with Richie. Soft and sweet, building to breathtaking. But Bianca is trying to start a war in his mouth. 

Eddie feels a hard tap at his shoulder and sees a teacher, waving his finger sternly at them to back apart. Smiling sheepishly, Eddie takes a step back. Bianca wipes her mouth and watches as the teacher leaves.

“You’re a good kisser,” she says.

And it shocks him, but he thanks her for it and returns the compliment with a smile, even though he doesn’t mean it. Then they continue to dance to the song.

When he looks around he notices that Bev and Richie have left.  
  
  


**Richie**

“Hey, what’s up?” Bev stretches her bare legs out on the sidewalk, leaning back against the brick of the school. She grabs the cigarette from Richie’s hand, confiscating it for her own.

Richie shakes his head, taking another from the pack, “Nothing. Just getting some fresh air.”

 _“Fresh_ air?” She looks pointedly at the cigarette,“You sure about that?”

“Fresh nicotine laced carcinogenic air,” he shrugs. Then he adds, “I’m glad you’re here, Bev.”

She bumps his shoulder, “Me too. Thanks for inviting me.”

They smoke in silence, enjoying the cool spring evening. It's probably too cold for Bev in a dress, but she doesn’t say a thing about it. Richie isn’t wearing a nice enough outfit to have a jacket to offer her, otherwise he would.

He feels like he’s been putting on a good face the whole night, trying his best to be supportive, but seeing Eddie and Bianca kiss, right there in front of the gods, aliens, and wicked people of Derry, twisted a knife in his gut. He had to run. It’s stupid, he knows that, but he had no control over his legs as they carried him as far from the gym as he could go.

Bev stands up, adjusting her dress and brushing out the skirt, “You coming back in?”

“You gonna try to dance with Bill?” Richie sends her a teasing smile as he flicks his cigarette butt across the cement.

Rolling her eyes, Bev says, “Think he’s busy with his date.” Holding her hand to Richie, she helps pull him up, “Why didn’t you have a date? A real one?”

“And miss out on going with the hottest girl in the whole state? Fuck that.” Richie slinks around behind her wrapping his arms around her. “Anyway, you _are_ my real date, Marsh,” he rests his chin on her shoulder. 

Bev reaches to his face and plucks his glasses off. “Yeah, okay,” it’s sarcastic, the way she says it. Turning around, still in his arms, she continues, “I’m serious, though. You’re kind of hot, Rich, when you’re not being a complete jackass. I have a hard time believing you couldn’t find someone to go with you.”

He assumes she’s checking him over but without his glasses it’s hard to tell. Richie admits, “The person I wanted to take already had a date.”

“Ah,” Bev places the glasses back on his face, “So, I’m second choice. It’s all making sense now.”

“Honestly Bev, I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too. Let’s get back in there.” She grabs his hand and pulls him along.

“You better dance with Haystack. I’d love to see him short circuit.”

Bev slaps at Richie’s chest, “Be nice.”

She always knows how to make him feel better. After surviving It they became close. The whole group is, but Bev was something ethereal. Her presence alone is enough to put him at ease. He often wonders if maybe she knows about him. Knows the one secret he would tell no one. That maybe she sensed it and that’s why they sought each other out, instinctually understanding they were the same. 

She’s never asked and he’s never told, but she’s always at ease with his touch, like she understands it’s for comfort and nothing more. Sometimes he wonders what it must look like from the outside, all the easy caressing, barely there brushes against each other. Richie knows he does the same to Eddie, but it’s different with him. His skin’s on fire and his heart is racing with every calculated touch. Richie has spent too long trying to figure out why it _couldn’t_ be Bev that he felt that attraction to.

He tried for a while, telling himself how hot she was. Trying to convince himself that her body was one he’d want to feel next to his. And he supposes if he had to pick a girl it would definitely be her.

They get back inside to the gym and Richie leans over to whisper in her ear, “Go dance with him!” Indicating Ben who looks content enough on the sidelines with his date already lost among her own friends on the dancefloor. 

“Be nice to him,” she swats, but then leaves Richie to walk over to him. Grabbing his hand, she pulls him out to the mob of bodies, and Richie smiles at how happy it’s made him. No one can resist Bev’s charms.

He sits down next to Mike whose date is nowhere to be found. “Having fun?” He asks.

“Yeah, actually,” Mike smiles, “I’m glad I got to come.” 

Richie kind of feels bad for him, not being able to share in many of the usual high school experiences as the rest of them. Worse than Eddie in some ways. He’s about to tease him, make him laugh, something to lighten the heaviness he feels weighing him down, when he sees Eddie and Bianca off in the shadows of the bleachers.

“Jesus, they’re really goin’ at it!”

Mike turns to where he’s looking, “Yeah, who’d have thought _Eddie’d_ be the one getting all the action? Would have had my money on Bill.”

“I’d be a little more surprised if it was Ben, to be honest, because at least he has tact.” 

Bouncing his legs in his chair, Richie’s feeling restless again, like he needs to run. Maybe he needs Bev to calm him down again. Or maybe he should have snuck some alcohol into the dance, and honestly why hadn’t that occurred to him before? He just kind of wants it all to be over. He knew it was only a matter of time before Eddie would find a girl. After that night, he _knew_ it was coming. But he wasn’t prepared and now it is playing out in front of him like the torture it is.

Mike cuts through his thoughts, “You’re the last person I’d think would be concerned with tact.”

“What? I can’t grow as a human being?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“You?” Mike laughs, “No.”

The slow song finishes and Richie hears a familiar beginning to the next one. 

_Well, my baby and me went out late Saturday night_

“Fuck, where’s Bev?” He cries, searching suddenly.

As he’s turning to look for her, Bev’s arms are already wrapping around him, “Come on! Come on! Do you remember?”

_I had my hair piled high and my baby just looked so right_

“Yes, I remember! We practiced forever. Think I’d fuckin’ forget?”

_Well, pick you up at ten, gotta have you home at two_

_Mama don't know what I catched off of you_

_But that's all right cause we're looking as cool as can be_

It was the school year after Pennywise, before Bev decided to live with her aunt permanently, and they’d practiced for hours upon hours for the talent show. They’d only entered as a joke, lindy hopping to the Stray Cats, but both had enjoyed themselves more than they expected. And now running with Bev on the dance floor made Richie forget everything that made him feel like he was drowning.

Bev pulled him far enough away from the others on the floor so they’d have enough room, and when she stopped, Richie immediately pulled her back in tight. They picked up instantly, like it hadn’t been years since they’d practiced. Twirling and spinning Bev around the floor, kicking in rhythm to the beat of the song. Laughing easily as everything melted away around them. 

_We're gonna rock this town_

_Rock it inside out_

_We're gonna rock this town_

_Make'em scream and shout_

Sweating from the fast beat, Richie feels at peace in that moment with her, when all that matters is the next step.

_Let's rock, rock, rock, man, rock_

_We're gonna rock till you pop_

_We're gonna rock till you drop_

_We're gonna rock this town_

_Rock it inside out_

The song is over too quickly but Bev crowds in under his arm out of breath, smiling up at him, and he is so grateful she is there. Richie looks around and sees a small crowd of people watching, then makes out the gang. They walk over to their applause as they approach the table. 

“Thank you! Thank you,” Richie gives Bev one last twirl, and they bow to their friends. 

“I can’t believe you guys still ruh-remember that,” Bill smiles at them.

Richie pulls out the only available chair to sit and pulls Bev down on his lap. He looks around and sees Eddie and Bianca have joined the table finally. He smiles at them, “You came up for air!”

Stan smirks, “They got caught.”

The DJ announces, “Last song of the night, so grab that special someone and hold them close.” 

_I swear_

The entire group groans. Richie laughs and sings with his arm out, exaggerating, _“By the moon and the stars in the sky!”_

Bev stands up, pulling at Richie’s arm, “Come on guys, group dance!” 

Richie notices she’s holding onto Bill who is in turn grabbing Becky’s arm, and soon the whole group is quickly crowding onto the floor.

Richie maneuvers himself next to Eddie and they all place their arms around one another in a large circle, swaying to the song, belting out the lyrics. Richie leans in too close but he doesn’t care, because it’s all a joke, right? He meets Eddie’s eyes, both of them smiling, happily pressed together.

When they get to the chorus Richie keeps his eyes on Eddie, “ _I'll love you with every beat of my heart. I swear!”_

The group laughs as the song ends but Richie tries to push down the melancholic bile threatening to work its way up. The night is over, it’s time to leave, and it’s what he wanted. But really all he can think about is what it would be like to dance with Eddie like that out on the floor. To feel him tucked in tight, breathing in the scent of him. And now their last school dance is over and that’s all he’ll get, a shitty group dance to fuckin’ _All-4-One._

But maybe it’s better than nothing.

Everyone begins to meander their way to the door, filtering into the night.

Ben suggests they all meet up somewhere but Eddie admits he needs to go home. His mother has been more cagey about the time he’s allowed out because she knows he’ll be off to college and he’s already going to be late as it is. Going to the dance was pushing it enough. 

They say goodbye, then Richie, Eddie, Bianca and Bev all weave their way to Richie’s car and wait their turn leaving the busy parking lot.

Richie has the music turned low until he notices Eddie and Bianca back at it, swapping spit in his backseat. Ruining his good mood once again. He and Bev share a look, each rolling their eyes and shaking their heads. The dance is one thing, but his _car?_

Bohemian Rhapsody is playing so he tells himself he’s not interrupting, it’s just that he can’t pass up a _Wayne’s World_ reference. So he says, “Hey, Eds! If you’re gonna spew, spew into this!” Then he cranks it, singing loudly, _“I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me. He's just a poor boy from a poor family, spare him his life from this monstrosity!”_

Eddie’s laughing, pulling away from Bianca (much to Richie’s satisfaction) leaning closer to the front seat and singing along with him. Bev is shaking her head, but she’s smiling and mouthing the words too. Through the rearview mirror, Richie notices Bianca looks annoyed, but fuck her. She shouldn’t be sucking face in his car.

By the time the song is over, Richie is pulling up to her house. Eddie walks her to the door and Richie tries his hardest not to watch.

“You okay?” Bev asks. Her voice sounds funny, hoarse and shot from yelling along to the songs all night. 

Richie’s hearing is muffled from the blasting music but he smiles at her, putting on a show, “‘Course I am. I get to go home with the hottest girl at the dance.” He smiles.

She rolls her eyes at him, “Idiot.”

“Aw, but you love me.”

“Only because of mutual childhood trauma.”

Richie laughs at that.

When Eddie gets back in, Richie can’t help himself, “So, Eds. Huh? _Huh?”_ He’s leering, waggling his eyebrows suggestively even though it's killing him inside. 

“Shut up,” Eddie shakes his head. 

Richie does. His heart isn’t in it, so he drives Eddie back to his house while Bev tries to make small talk. 

“You must really like her?” She asks.

Eddie shrugs, “She’s okay, I guess.”

“Just okay?” Bev shares with Richie an incredulous look. “You weren’t more than three inches apart the entire night!”

“Neither were you two,” Eddie replies.

Richie snaps his eyes onto Eddie through the mirror but he’s looking out the window, biting his nail, appearing very distraught for reasons Richie can’t grasp. 

“Well,” Bev says, “she seems to like _you.”_

“Shocking, isn’t it?” Richie teases.

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie says with more heat than he expects.

“Jesus, what’s the matter with you?” He pushes. He knows he shouldn’t but he’s never been able to listen to that little voice inside that tells him to back off.

Eddie doesn’t reply. 

When they reach his house he offers a quick, “Thanks.” Then pulls himself from the car dragging his feet as he goes.

“What the hell is his problem?” Richie wonders aloud.

“Maybe he wanted to stay out longer and he’s upset he can’t?”

Richie figures that’s as good of reason as any, so he throws the car into drive to make their way home. Pulling up in front of his house takes no time. Bev grabs her backpack of things and follows him inside.

“What did you tell your parents?”

“I just asked if a friend could spend the night,” Richie shrugs.

“They don’t care you’re having a girl sleep over?”

Richie scoffs, “If they notice, you mean?” He walks upstairs and points to a few spare bedrooms giving her the pick. 

“I forget how big your house is. Are you tired yet?” She asks.

“You have something in mind, Bev?” He smiles hopefully.

Biting her lip and smiling back, “You must have some alcohol around here somewhere, right?”

And that sounds fucking amazing. They raid his parents liquor cabinet and retreat into Richie’s room where he puts on the radio, the late night stations are always the best. Bev drops her backpack on the floor and climbs on his bed, lying back, making herself comfortable.

It doesn’t take long for the alcohol to hit him, or maybe it’s his morose mood creeping back in, but everything is spiraling in a warm way and he feels more relaxed than he had all night.

“‘M glad you’re here, Beverly.”

“So you’ve mentioned, like, a thousand times.” She laughs at him, “Tell me who it is.”

“Who’s who is?” Richie thinks that makes sense.

“Tell me who you wanted to go with.”

Richie freezes, “No, no can do Bevvie-o.”

“What? Why?” She grabs the bottle and takes a swig.

“‘S just how it is.”

“Come on! Now I’m _dying_ to know!”

Richie sighs, “They don’t like me back. I don’t want to think about it.”

“How do you know she doesn’t like you back?”

Richie closes his eyes at the _'she.’_ He doesn’t answer but instead asks, “You ever feel like you don’t fit in? I mean, like, _really_ don’t fit in. Like everyone is programmed to be a certain way, and they’re happy about it. But you never got the same program, and you’re speaking a whole other language, just nodding along, pretending you understand everyone else?”

“What?” Bev asks confused.

“Nevermind,” he sighs. 

She’s quiet a moment before admitting, “I didn’t feel like I fit in anywhere until we started hanging out. The whole group, I mean, _that_ summer. I still don’t fit in at my school. I found another group of misfits and loners, though. We get by. It’s not the same as you guys, but it’s nice.”

Richie wants to say it so badly. He thinks she’d understand. They saved each other's lives and that has to count for something. He doesn’t think she’d destroy him now. Inhaling a shaking breath he starts, “I think I’m-” but he can’t get it out. The words die there in his throat. But he thinks he needs to get them out so he tries again, “I think I like-” he pulls his glasses from his face and blindly places them on the nightstand. “I don’t think I like girls,” he speaks quickly. And fuck, did he actually say that out loud?

Bev sits up, looking him over, in a fiery orange blob of hair, _“You’re gay?”_

He covers his eyes, “No! I’m not a fucking queer!” He shouldn’t have said anything. Why the hell did he ever say anything? “I’m just fucking with you!” Playing it as a joke falls flat and he knows it.

Grabbing his hand, Bev pushes it against her breast and asks, “That doin’ anything for you?”

And fuck, he’s grabbing her breast. His hand is on Bev’s tit. Richie Tozier is groping Beverly Marsh. And it’s a little awesome but it's mostly weird.

“Uh, yeah. That’s great, Bev,” he doesn’t know what else to say. "I didn't know you felt that way. We’ll have to let Ben down easy." 

With her hand overtop she helps him squeeze it, and it’s not bad, but it’s not really doing much of anything for him.

“Are you still a virgin?” She asks.

He’s blushing, but he scoffs and says, “I haven’t been a fucking virgin for like, five years, Bev.”

She’s giving him a stern look and he knows it even though he can’t see a fuckin’ thing. “Be real with me, Richie. Come on, it’s us, okay? You don’t have to be worried about your programming with me. I’d never tell anyone.”

He closes his eyes and nods, “Fine! Yes, I’m a virgin!”

“I meant the other thing, you idiot! I know you’re lying about _that.”_

Richie grabs his hand from her breast and covers his face, rubbing it hard. He’s so fucking sick of keeping it inside so he blurts, “There’s this boy and I can’t stop thinking about him and we kissed and it was the best fucking moment in my life. And I don’t know if that makes me a faggot or what the hell is going on, but I know that I’ve wanted to kiss him forever and when we did it was perfect, Bev. It was fuckin’ incredible.”

“Oh my god, Richie!” Bev smiles. Richie knows she’s smiling, he can hear it, but he can’t make himself look. She continues, “If he kissed you he must like you too, right?”

“You’re not disgusted?”

She shrugs, “It’s kind of hot. Have you seen _The Rocky Horror Picture Show?_ Might be your kind of movie. Actually, you’d make a pretty hot Frank-N-Furter.” Whatever the fuck that means, he doesn't have time to ask before she straddling him, saying, “I have an idea.” 

Richie’s eyes are wide now and he’s staring up at her like she’s crazy. 

“Uh, okay?” He asks nervously.

For as close as they are, they’ve never done anything like this before and Richie doesn’t know what to think. She’s gorgeous and in his lap, sitting on his dick, which is starting to get a little interested. But he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with his hands.

“Be real with me, okay? Please. Just drop the jokes and be honest.”

“Tall order, Bev.”

“You really think you might be gay?” 

He closes his eyes and nods.

“But you’re not sure?”

Shrugging, he says, “I think I _really_ like dicks.”

Bev laughs at that, which is a huge relief. She says, “Look, I like you Rich. I love you, actually. You’re one of the very few people in this world who I truly give a shit about. Unfortunately, you’re kind of hot.”

 _“Unfortunately?”_ He scoffs.

“If you want to mess around, see if you’d like it, you know, with a _girl,_ I’m in.” She smirks, “I like helping out for charity occasionally.”

“I think there’s a joke in there somewhere about making a donation.” He’s pretty sure Bev is glaring at him. He adds, “I’m talking about ejaculating semen into your-”

“Oh my god, Richie. Don’t make me change my mind.”

He leans up, surprised, “You’d actually let me _fuck_ you? Are you crazy?” Suddenly, now that he knows she’s serious, he’s interested in this proposal. He doesn’t want to leave for college a virgin. He doesn’t really know if he likes women. He’s just very certain of liking men. And Bev, the beautiful angel she is, is willing to help. She smiles and he sits, flipping her gracefully onto her back, he lies on top of her. “You’d seriously let me fuck you? What if this is all some ploy to get into your pants? Crying gay to earn another notch in the bed post for Richie Tozier!” He lifts his hand.

“I’m not high-fiving the prospect of you being a womanizing ass,” she scoffs. “But, I have to say, I was just grinding around on your dick while you held my tits and I felt nothing down there, man. I’m sorry, but I think I’m going to have to diagnose you as Homosexual.”

“I wasn’t concentrating enough!” Richie protests.

“Yeah, that’s _really_ not how it works,” Bev smiles.

“Are _you_ a virgin?” Richie asks, suddenly wondering.

“No, but he wasn’t-” Bev looks away sadly. “He wasn’t very nice. I wouldn’t mind just one nice experience, Richie. And without those stupid glasses you’re actually stupid hot.”

“You think so?” Richie flashes a smile at her. He’s blind but he gives it to her anyway. He can’t believe they’re actually talking about it, actually considering it. Part of him feels like she’s just messing with him, so he asks, “How do we do this?”

“Do you have condoms?”

“Fuck, is this _really_ gonna happen?” Richie whispers. 

“Do you want it to?”

And yeah. Yeah, he fucking does, so he nods his head quickly.

She whispers back, “Go get a condom and dim the light.”

He climbs off of her and does as she says, blindly stumbling as he turns out the light before clicking on a lamp. He _does_ have condoms but mostly only for show and boredom if he feels like jerking off to make it last longer. 

He returns to her and Bev instructs, “Take off your pants.”

“Fuck,” he sighs, "I'm just kind of having a moment here. Bev fuckin' Marsh is tellin' me to get naked."

"Shut up and do it," Bev laughs.

Quickly stepping out of his clothes, he’s standing there in front of her sprawled out on his bed, and something clenches in his heart. It’s so very similar to when he taught Eddie to kiss and if Bev was harboring any feelings that he didn’t reciprocate, he wouldn’t feel right about leading her on.

“Bev, why do you _really_ want to do this?”

“What do you mean?” Propping herself on her elbows, she says softly, “Richie, you were really hurting tonight. I saw it. I saw how devastated you were and you brushed it all aside like it was nothing. This could be fun. _And-”_ she bites her lip, “I don’t want my only memories of sex to be what they were. I want someone nice. Someone I trust who I know won’t hurt me. I just want that one nice memory, Rich.” 

“I’m sure Bill would be more than willing-”

“There’s baggage there,” she replies quickly. “There’s emotional baggage and I don’t want any fear of what could happen in the future. He’s going off to college and I don’t want to drag him down.”

“Bev, you could never drag anyone down.”

She smiles sweetly, “You’re perfect for this, Richie.”

“So you’re not afraid of my deep, immeasurable love for you?” Leaning over the side of the bed, he nudges his nose against hers playfully, “Maybe I want to spend the rest of my life with you?”

She laughs against him. “I bet you don’t even know where the clit is.”

He leans back, eyebrows high, “Is that a real bet, Beverly Marsh? If I get you off you have to give me that UK bootleg of _The Downward Spiral_ you found!”

“Richie, it’s the same exact copy as yours. The cover is the only difference-”

“No, I want it.”

“Fine,” she rolls her eyes, “What do I get when you quickly discover how much you prefer dick?”

“You’re already stealing my innocence here, Bev. What more could you want?”

She laughs at that, “Hook me up with a stash of cigs for the road.”

“Enough to buy that Joe Camel trucker hat you have your eye on?” He narrows his eyes at her, “You drive a tough bargain, but okay. Okay,” he sighs. It’s as good of reason as any, he supposes. His hands are shaking and he is far too nervous for what they are about to do. And not nearly drunk enough. Climbing onto the bed, he kneels next to her.

“Uh-” his hands hover above her.

She leans up enough to help him move, guiding him to kneel between her legs, and he can’t shake his memory of Eddie. Only with Eddie he was terrified of him discovering how unrelentingly hard he’d gotten just from a kiss. Now he was terrified and intrigued for entirely different reasons.

His hands go over her clothes to her breast and he squeezes gently. "Is this okay? Can I do this?" Because, fuck, he's groping Bev.

"Richie, your dick is going to be inside me. You can touch my boobs." 

"Jesus," he sighs in disbelief. Pulling the collar low enough, he dips his hand under her dress, _under_ her bra, and can feel the pebbling of her nipple. He kind of wants to lick it, so he pushes aside the fabric enough to do it.

It earns him a surprised gasp. 

"Just wait," she says sitting up. Richie moves back, gives her enough room, and she's reaching behind her back then pulling her bra out of the sleeve of her dress.

"Hell of a magic trick," Richie mumbles as she adjusts herself beneath him again.

"Okay, now do that again."

It's easier to move the fabric exposing her breast now. Richie flicks his tongue across her nipple, gently blowing air over her skin before saying, “Kiss that album goodbye, Bev.”

She laughs and grabs his free hand, guiding it between her legs. She must have taken off her underwear when he was getting the condom, because he’s feeling _her_ and when she crooks their fingers together, he can feel how wet she is.

He pulls his hand away immediately, “That’s so fuckin’ gross.”

She’s laughing as she says, “Are you tapping out already, Tozier?”

“No! I can do this. I can do this! I can’t wait to- feel that… hot... wet... cunt,” he says, obviously disgusted. 

And while he’s not into it at all, he kind of is. His cock is hard, feeling her up like he is. And he really shouldn’t be. Or, actually he _should_. She’s a red blooded American female and he’s a horny teenage boy, right? This is _exactly_ what he should be doing on a Friday night.

So everything is... great.

“Richie, if you don’t want to, just tell me. It’s okay.”

He _doesn’t_ want to. 

But then again, he _does_ because he needs to know _._ Maybe he could grow to love it. He’s still hard, so part of him must like it, right? He thinks he understands better what Eddie meant when he said he wanted to get it over with. Richie wants to fuck a girl because he needs to know if he _can._ This is the best chance he’ll have at it, someone safe. Someone he loves. 

“No, I do, it’s just-” he doesn't know what the hell he's doing.

She takes his hand again and guides it back between her legs. Richie’s more prepared this time and it’s not so bad. He’s still hard, and she’s showing him how she likes to be touched. He finds where he’s able to push inside, and she’s so tight around his fingers.

Bev’s eyes are closed, her mouth open with slight gasps, and Richie wishes he could see better because he knows she looks beautiful like this. But his erection is wilting so he removes his hand, kicks off his boxers, and pulls at himself until he’s hard again.

He rolls on the condom and then positions himself over Bev, “Are you sure this is okay?” His voice is shaking, he knows, but he doesn’t want to do this if it’s not what she wants.

Her soft hands touch his cheek and her voice is so full of love when she says, “Yeah, Richie. If you want to.”

Lining himself up, she has to grab his cock to help get him in the right place. He pushes in and gasps from the tight, wet heat. 

It’s not bad. 

It’s definitely not the worst.

Pulling out, he pushes back in slowly and listens to the way Bev is breathing heavily. He wonders if he should be doing something. Playing with her breasts? Kissing her? Instead he grabs at her hips and fucks in again, slowly. 

And it’s weird. When he closes his eyes it feels good enough, but behind his eyes it’s Eddie that he sees. And he knows this isn’t how Eddie feels. Bev’s skin is too soft, and her waist isn’t right, and he can hear her panting breaths and smell her perfume as he tries to thrust forward. And maybe he could come like this. Maybe if he fucked her hard and fast enough, maybe that would be enough to get him off.

But he can feel his erection start to waiver after a few more thrusts and he knows, without a doubt, he can’t do that to her. 

So he pulls out with a sigh, and collapses on his back next to her.

“Fuck,” he squeezes his eyes shut tight.

“Richie, it’s okay,” Bev turns on her side and nestles in next to him. And it’s honestly exactly what he needs.

Turning into her, he wraps his arms around her tightly. He’s not going to cry. He’s _not_ . He _knew_ he was gay. But it still fucking sucks that now he knows he can’t even pretend to be normal.

Tucked against his chest, Bev says, “I should have known you were gay.”

“What?” Richie tensens up, “Why?”

“You’re the only one of the guys that likes to dance.”

He laughs at that, driving the tears that had been building up away. Replying, “Are we joking about this already? I don’t get a single moment to wallow in my faggotry?”

“Nope,” Bev smiles, lifting her head, “You have the rest of your life for that.” She squeezes him tight and says, “I’m glad you told me.”

“Ugh, I still have a condom on my wilted, limp, flaccid dick.”

They both laugh again. Richie sits up to take care of it. He finds his boxers and steps into them, suddenly feeling much more insecure about his nudity. Taking off his under shirt from the dance, he finds a softer T-shirt to sleep in and returns to Bev who is watching him with a smile.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” She bites her lip. “I get really bad nightmares sometimes. Being alone makes it worse.”

“Duh, Bev. You can do whatever the hell you want. You’re Beverly Fuckin’ Marsh."

Turning off the remaining light, Richie walks back to his bed with Bev now comfortably under the covers. He finds her there and holds onto her, not sure if it’s for her sake or his. 

Richie kisses the top of her head while she whispers, “I love you, Rich.”

“Love you too, Bev.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is one of two playlists](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLnAjBQAstdJ6sGmSwcrBRZwHUgzFJdKxE) for the songs in this fic.
> 
> Rock This Town - The Stray Cats  
> I Swear - All 4 One  
> Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen


	3. Chapter 3

**Eddie**

“How many people have you kissed?” Eddie asks Stan as they walk through the Barrens.

“Just Rachel,” he admits.

“How was it the second time?”

Stan shrugs, “I don’t know. The same as the first? Why are you asking?”

Eddie sighs, “It just wasn’t the same with Bianca as it was the first time.”

 _“Oh,_ you miss your little pharmacy hook up,” Stan smirks. “Did you get her number?”

“No! That’s not it,” he insists, but his heart pounds thinking about the lie Richie told about the girl. Like some girl would just come up to him and want to kiss him. 

“Geez! Defensive much? What’s the problem then?”

“It’s just, the first time it was-” he shakes his head, _“different_. Better. A lot fucking better.” He surprises himself once it’s out, knowing it’s the truth, but he chews his lip to keep from admitting more.

“Is Bianca a bad kisser?”

“No, that’s the thing. It was just-” he shrugs, “boring.” 

“Maybe it was boring because you don’t like her? Did you like the first girl more?”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffs, then says too loud, “Hell no. I didn’t even know her.” Laughing nervously, Eddie adds, “I just thought- I don’t know, it would be more like before.”

“Maybe she just doesn’t do it for you? Maybe you need to meet some other girls?”

“She called me today. Asked if I wanted to go on a date. Like, a _real_ date.”

“All that kissing at the dance and it wasn’t a real date?” Stan teases, “So, when is it?”

“I told her I couldn’t,” Eddie looked down, feeling bad.

 _“What?_ Why?” Stan furrows his brow at him.

“I told her my mom wouldn’t let me.”

“Eddie,” Stan shakes his head, “that’s weak, even for you.”

“I didn’t know what the hell to say! The dance was great and all but, I guess I just don’t like her?”

As they reach closer to the Clubhouse they begin to hear soft giggling, which grows louder with each step.

“Shh!” Stan says, pointing in the direction of the entrance, “Someone’s in there already.” 

Bev’s voice is difficult to catch, “-yeah, and _last!”_

Richie’s is easier to hear. Eddie could identify his voice anywhere. “You tellin’ me you don’t want a repeat performance? Breakin’ my heart here, Bev.” 

_“No one_ is standing up for _that_ encore, Richie. Yourself included.”

“Oh, fuck off. I was drunk.”

“Not _that_ drunk.” 

Eddie elbows Stan and whispers, “What’s that about?”

Stan shrugs back, “Dunno.”

They hear Bev laugh, “-least I know all those big dick jokes aren’t _complete_ bullshit.”

Eddie’s heart drops.

Stan nudges him, “They had sex!”

“No way!” Eddie replies, and the punch to his gut makes him feel like he’s sinking.

“I would _never_ lie about that!” Richie gasps. “I can’t believe you think I would.”

“Yeah, okay,” Bev teases, “I’m not saying I was _impressed,_ just pleasantly surprised.”

“That’s not what you said last night!” Richie replies and Eddie can practically see his hand raised for a high-five.

“All I said last night was, you are _kind of_ hot when you _aren’t_ being a jackass,” she replied. “That’s all I said.”

“The jackassery is part of my charm, Bev! I hope I haven’t ruined you for all men for the rest of your life. I mean, I know I’ve placed the bar pretty high at this point.” Bev laughs heartily at that until Richie protests, “Okay, it wasn’t _that_ bad!”

“Richie, sweetie,” she says it like she’s fighting back another laugh and trying to let him down easy all at once.

“Oh, fuck off,” Richie scoffs and Eddie imagines he’s blushing from the tone of it.

Stan elbows at Eddie and whispers, “Should we stomp?”

“I bet you’re a great kisser, though,” Bev teases. “All that practice with your hand probably paid off.”

And Eddie blushes at that because he knows she’s right.

“My hand and I have a deeply intimate relationship,” Richie replies.

“Yeah, well, may you have a long and happy life together.”

Stan coughs loudly and begins stomping towards the entrance. Eddie glares at him. He wants to hear more. He needs to. But Stan doesn’t seem to notice as he lifts the door and climbs down. Swallowing back the painful lump in his throat, Eddie closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then follows after him.

“What the hell are you guys doing here?” Richie asks. 

Eddie’s waiting for him to start bragging about being with Bev. To tease him about having a girlfriend, and not just _any_ girlfriend but Beverly Marsh. He doesn’t know why he didn’t see it coming. They’ve always been close. They were inseparable at the dance. And suddenly Eddie feels like he’s being left behind again. The one thing he could count on from Richie was to be a bigger loser than him. Richie practically repelled women. But Bev always saw through that facade, and is it really that surprising that they’d end up together?

“Bored,” Stan replies simply. “We wanted to see if it dried up now that the snow finally melted. What are you doing here?”

“Bev wanted to hit the usual haunts before I bring her home.”

Her distance from them is one thing to be relieved about. At least he won’t have to see them together all the time. If Richie’s even around anymore. Maybe he’ll just fuck off after school and spend all his time in Portland. Eddie tries to stuff down the pain that thought causes.

Eddie pushes it all aside as they talk and dig around the Clubhouse for old forgotten relics, sharing memories with one another. Time passes quickly after the initial unease passes. Even though Eddie’s able to ignore the conversation they overheard, he’s on edge, waiting for Richie to say something. Brag about it. Maybe he won’t with Bev right there. Maybe he’ll wait until she’s back home and can’t defend the truth, whatever it may be. 

Beverly decides she wants to crash in on Bill at work before leaving town, so they all pile into Richie’s death trap of a car and drop by the bookstore. Eddie’s holding his breath, covertly studying Richie the entire time. Seeing if there’s anything to prove what he and Stan overheard. Anything to indicate that he and Bev are together. But she goes straight to Bill behind the counter, leaning in, smiling bright, and Richie’s next to Eddie, shoulder bumping into his until he’s grabbing Eddie’s arm and pulling him directly to the porno mags. 

“Don’t worry, Eddie. You don’t have to ask Bill for a step ladder, I’ll get it down for you,” Richie reaches for the top shelf.

“Fuck you.” 

The images are all blacked out and stickered over but they can see the titles which Richie’s laughing at, using voices for each one until Eddie’s snickering about them too.

Bill only yells at them once, before Eddie pulls the magazine from Richie’s hand and shoves it back on the shelf. They walk back to Stan who’s flipping through something with a bird on it in the nonfiction section.

Richie reaches for a book of his own, while Eddie tries to watch him through the side. All he can think about is wondering if he and Beverly actually had sex. If Richie really isn’t a virgin anymore. And why isn’t he all over her? Someone gorgeous like Bev and she’s over flirting with Bill, and Richie doesn’t even notice.

“Take a picture, Ed,” Richie replies dryly without looking up, flipping another page, "It'll last longer."

Fighting the heat rising high on his cheeks, Eddie turns away. Instead, he looks to Stan, nodding to Richie, trying to ask wordlessly, _Did they really?!_

But Stan just shrugs.

When they leave the bookstore, Stan asks for Richie to drop him off at home.

“Eddie, are you coming with us?” Bev asks smiling, eyes alight as she turns around in the front seat to face him. She shines on him warmly, she’s always been kind, but Eddie still can’t help but feel jealous of the easy way she fits right next to Richie. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, “To bring you home? Be in a car with Richie that’s going overs sixty miles per hour on the highway? Are you fuckin’ crazy?”

“Come on!” She urges. “You’ll save me from having to be alone with him alone for two hours.”

“You didn’t seem to mind it at the dance,” Eddie grumbles in the backseat. 

“Jealous, Eds?” Richie smirks. 

His heart jumps from being called out so easily, “Shut up. Don’t call me that.”

“Come on, I never get to see you guys,” she adds.

“Fine!” Eddie relents. “We’ll be back before dark, right? My mom will kill me if I’m not home on time.”

“Yes, Eduardo,” Richie sighs. “You’ll be back before your five o’clock curfew.”

He wants to tell him to fuck off, but he doesn’t have the energy for it. Instead he stays in the car as Richie drives along the highway. They sing along to shitty dance songs on the radio and laugh easily. The closer to Portland the more serious they become, like they know that these memories they’re making together will soon come to an end. They talk about their future. Bev tells them about the colleges she’s been accepted to and where she decided to go. Eddie shares his. Richie’s quiet, even though Eddie knows he’s enrolled for the fall too. 

“Your mom is gonna let you leave Derry?” Bev asks him. Eddie recognizes the teasing jab, but it’s a fair question. 

“I won’t be _that_ far,” Eddie admits reluctantly. “It’s pretty much the only way she agreed to help pay for school. Had to be nearby.”

“I want to get as far as I can from this fucking place,” Richie sighs morosely. “I hate this fucking town and the fucking bullshit people in it.”

Eddie watches as Bev reaches out to Richie’s hand on the seat between them and squeezes it gently. He feels a sudden overwhelming wave of envy pass through him. _He_ wants to be holding Richie’s hand, comforting him like Richie had relieved Eddie’s own fears that night in his bedroom. As quickly as it occurs, he shakes it from his mind, reminding himself that he’s only jealous that Richie has someone and he doesn’t.

A nagging part of his mind reminds him he _could_ have someone too. 

Bianca likes him.

A lot. 

But he doesn’t want her.

When they drop Bev off they all climb out of the car. She gives Richie a big hug while whispering in his ear, then gives him a kiss on the cheek. She reaches for Eddie and to his surprise does the same. 

“Keep him out of trouble,” Beverly winks.

“He’s like a fucking prolapse, you think anyone can rein that asshole in?” Eddie smiles.

“Hey! I’m right here!” Richie protests.

Eddie takes her place in the front seat after she leaves, and he and Richie are back on the road. But Eddie didn’t think about this part when he agreed to tag along, being alone with Richie in his car for two hours. No one to buffer their conversation or steer it towards safe topics. No one to keep his mind off of their kiss. They haven’t been alone together since it happened.

He wonders if the silence is as awkward as it feels or if it’s just him. 

And he keeps waiting for Richie to brag about fucking Bev but he still doesn’t bring it up.

Finally, Eddie sighs, pushing back into his seat he says, “Bianca wants to go out with me.”

Richie chuckles, “You think?” 

“She called my house after the dance. Asked me on a date.”

There’s a pause before Richie asks, “Where are you taking her?”

“I told her I couldn’t. I said my mom wouldn’t let me.”

Richie laughs heartily at that, “Was it the truth? Because I gotta be honest, I don’t think Mrs. K loves the idea of dirty girls getting their hands all over her precious Eddie Bear.”

“Shut up,” Eddie shakes his head. He’s not entirely wrong, though. He knows his mom won’t let him, so he leaned into it when he let her down. “I don’t know. She was just all over me at the dance. It was too much.”

“Yeah, looked like you were being tortured, the way you had her tongue in your mouth the whole night,” Richie grips the steering wheel. “I thought you were gonna start fucking her right behind the bleachers.”

“Like you and Bev were any better.”

 _“What?”_ Richie scoffs, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Sitting in your lap, pulling you out for every song. Her arms were always wrapped around you like she was a leech!” 

“She danced with everyone, Eddie, not just me! You sound jealous. She would have danced with you too if you ever came up for air.”

“I’m not jealous, dickwad. I’m disgusted.”

“Yeah, okay,” Richie replies sarcastically. “You ask every single one of the guys which one of us was being gross at the dance, they’re _not_ gonna say it was me.”

It pisses Eddie off to know Richie’s right. There’s a buzzing of irritation under his skin making him feel like he needs to jump from the car, walk it off, and hope it simmers to a manageable hum. But the car is cruising so fast it’s blurring the scenery around him. He can’t escape, they’re still too far from Derry. And he’s stuck in the car with Richie who had sex with Bev and he won’t even tell Eddie about it. He isn’t saying a goddamn thing and Eddie doesn’t understand why.

“Did you fuck Bev?” He asks frankly, crossing his arms, staring out the window, determined not to meet Richie’s eyes.

“What?!” Richie says, a little too high pitched and forceful to put Eddie at ease.

“Stan and I heard you talking.”

“Oh,” Richie says quietly.

Eddie’s still waiting for him to brag about it. He’s not denying it, and it’s like he’s been swapped with Bizzaro-Richie because he’s not rubbing it in.

“So you did?”

“Don’t tell Bill,” Richie says quickly. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Why?” Eddie whips his head around to look at him now. And Richie is blushing. “Are you fucking embarrassed about it?”

“No!” Richie insists, staring ahead. “It’s just- it isn’t a big deal, okay?”

“Who the hell are you and what have you done with Richie?”

“It’s not like it was my first fucking time, I’ve been fucking your mom for years!” And that’s the Richie he knows.

Eddie laughs, because now he knows for a fact, so he says it, “It _was_ your first time. Oh my god! Why don’t you want anyone to know? It’s not like any of us have gotten laid. Maybe Bill.”

“Because it’s _Bev!”_ Richie says defensively, like that’s supposed to make sense.

Eddie furrows his brow because that doesn’t clear up anything.

Richie’s sighing and gripping the wheel tightly, “It’s _Bev,_ okay? We got drunk and messed around. That’s all it was. And no one was supposed to know!”

He feels that like a punch. Richie never would have told him if they hadn’t overheard, and it hurts. “Why? If you guys are dating, people are gonna find out-”

“We’re not dating, dude,” Richie laughs. “We’re just friends.”

“Friends don’t just have sex with each other,” Eddie insists.

Richie turns to look at him and says pointedly, “Friends do _all_ kinds of things together, Eddie.”

And fuck. He’s talking about their kiss. He’s not teasing him, but there’s a heat to his voice that sounds like a dare. _I dare you to say something, Eds, I fucking dare you._

Instead, he crosses his arms and shakes his head, saying, “I can’t believe you had sex with Bev and you weren’t gonna tell me.”

“Believe me,” Richie says, “I’m equally as shocked that it happened. But _please_ don’t say anything to Bill. You know it’s weird between them.” Then he adds as an afterthought, “Or Ben. I think it would break his heart.”

“Fine,” Eddie sighs. He thinks about it for a minute before asking carefully, “So, what was it like?”

Expecting a joke, he prepares himself for whatever dickish comment Richie’s about to unleash.

But Richie’s just smiling at him, soft and almost shy, “It’s good, Ed. I mean, it was a drunken disaster and it’s never happening again, but it was good.” 

With the news out there between them, the air lightens considerably the closer they get to home. Richie’s cracking jokes, teasing Eddie about Bianca more than he should. Not about passing up on the date but doubling down that Eddie made the right decision. He knows he should defend her, but he feels like maybe Richie understands something he doesn’t. Like he knows something is wrong with her too, and he doesn’t judge Eddie for not wanting to go out with her like the other guys might. 

But he wouldn’t mind having something like Richie and Bev had. He wonders if maybe he just needs to keep looking. 

**Richie**

The rumors started as a whisper, hushed giggles between the girls in the hall. Richie nearly missed them at first. But as he was about to turn a corner he overheard, “Yeah, _Kaspbrak!”_ on the other side, he had to stop to listen.

“Bianca said he was hung like a horse.”

Richie makes a face to himself as he listens to the girls giggling.

“She’s trying to lock him down but he keeps avoiding her.”

That soothes his jealousy enough to shake himself from their conversation. Taking a deep breath, Richie steels himself to walk past. They hush up quickly and he can feel their eyes on him, but he pretends not to notice as he makes his way to his locker. Grabbing his books, he goes to Civics and pretends that his mind is focused on anything other than Eddie’s dick and why the girls suddenly seem to be so interested in it.

The end of class can’t come soon enough. He darts out of the room to track him down, pulling him from the hallway and pushing him against the wall.

“What the _fuck?!”_ Eddie looks up at him, wide eyed, until he realizes it’s Richie.

Richie leans in, “Did you fuck Bianca?”

 _“What?”_ Eddie looks around them, before he whispers, “No. I told you-”

“She blow you or something?”

Eddie’s brow is furrowed, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“There’s a rumor going around school that you guys hooked up. The girls are calling you Big Dick Eddie.” Okay, so Richie made that part up but it’s not far from the truth.

Eddie grabs his arm, _“What?!”_

Richie shrugs, “So, you guys didn’t-”

“No!” Eddie replies. “Who said that?”

“I don’t know, I just heard some girls talking about it.”

“About _me?_ ”

“Definitely you, Dr. K.”

“Bianca.” He shakes his head, pursing his lips, “I told you! I told you she starts shit.”

Richie lifts his hands defensively, “Hey! I didn’t tell you to take her to the dance. _I_ said we should go alone. Besides, that’s gotta be, like, the best rumor to have out there.” Eddie glares at him, so Richie continues, “Why are you pissed?” 

“This is all _your_ fault!”

“What? _My_ fault. What the hell? What did I do?”

“I wouldn’t have asked her at all if you didn’t-” Eddie’s cheeks turn pink but he stops talking.

“If I didn’t what?”

“I’m gonna be late for class,” Eddie pushes past him and Richie’s left clueless, watching him stalk down the hall.

Richie would have been amused by the whole thing if it wouldn’t have put Eddie into such a bitchy mood. He saw how much it upset him so he lays off teasing for most of the week. Until one day at lunch Bill brings it up.

“Eddie! Have you heard? Do you know what they’ve been saying about you?”

He glares at Richie, like it was _his_ fucking fault the girls banded together to make Eddie King Hot Shit of the school. 

Eddie sighs heavily, “What is it now?”

Over the week Richie had heard everything from how big his dick is, to how good of a kisser he is, to how skilled of a lover Eddie is. And that honestly had to be the most hilarious, being as two weeks prior he hadn’t even had his first kiss, let alone touched a single tit.

Bill says, “You know about it, right?”

Eddie pushes his lunch away, like he’s lost his appetite, “Yeah, it’s fucking Bianca. She keeps trying to get me to take her out so she started talking about me to all the other girls and-” he gestures wildly.

Bill and Stan laugh. Ben gives him a sympathetic smile.

Richie wants to tease him, but for some reason the whole thing doesn’t seem funny anymore. Girls have been coming up to Eddie all week. Talking to him. Touching his arm. Laughing at jokes he hasn’t even made. 

And Richie hates every single one of them.

Each day continues to get worse. 

Until Richie’s worst nightmare (sans space clown) happens; Eddie doesn’t seem to mind his reputation anymore. He runs straight into it. Lips first. Hard. Too hard. Richie can’t walk out of school without seeing Eddie making out with a new girl under a tree or in the parking lot. 

Finally he decides to avoid him altogether. Every time he’s forced to look at Eddie with another girl he feels sick and angry. He wants to hit something, redirect his pain so he can focus on that instead of the burning feeling in his gut, pulling him down, reminding him how fucked he is. How fucking stupid it is that _he_ can’t be the one Eddie’s touching and kissing and smiling into. And he doesn’t know how he ever had a fraction of it to begin with.

It makes it so much worse, he thinks, knowing what Eddie tastes like. Knowing what it feels like to have him beneath him. The way he shivers when his hair is pulled or how he gasps when Richie bites along his neck.

School feels unbearable and he finds himself once again counting down until he can get the fuck out of Derry. 

Another weekend comes and he feels more lonely than he has in years. Everyone is busy with work or helping with their families. He hasn’t checked in with Eddie, assuming he’d pick the latest girl and disappear with her for the day. 

He goes to the bookstore instead, loiters around Bill. He doesn’t think Bill minds, it’s a slow day because it’s nice and everyone wants to be outside. He should too, so he plans on going to the Barrens after the store closes, but while he’s there Richie gets an idea. It’s a bad fucking idea but that’s never stopped him before, and it had been on his mind since Bill got the job. Richie never thought he’d be brave enough to do it, but fuck it. What the hell difference does anything make at this point? 

He walks over to the magazine rack and grabs a few of the blacked out titles, the raunchiest he can find, throwing in the one he actually wants, then walks them back over to Bill. He throws them next to the register carelessly.

“You ever jerk off while you’re here alone?” He asks, mostly just to see Bill recoil in disgust so he can laugh at it.

“Ew, that’s gross.” Richie starts to rip open one of the bags and Bill complains, “Dude! You have to pay first.”

Rolling his eyes, he pulls out his wallet and waits for Bill to ring them up.

He reads the titles skeptically to himself until he stops on the one Richie expected him to, _“This_ one?”

It’s _Playguy,_ obviously gay, and Richie has the lie already queued up, “Yeah, I’m gonna throw it in Eddie’s backpack on Monday. It’ll be fun to watch him freak.” 

Bill shakes his head but continues to scan them. Richie looks at Bill expectantly until he finally gestures toward him amused, saying, “Knock yourself out.”

Richie laughs and pulls one of the straight magazines from the darkened, sealed plastic, “Who even buys these?” He flips through it, vaginas on display, right in the middle of the store. There aren’t any customers but Bill still looks uneasy about it. “You ever get any?”

“No!” Bill says quickly. “It’s mostly old guys. They try to return them sometimes.”

“What?” Richie laughs in disgust. “Like, _after_ they’re opened?"

Bill nods with a sneer on his face, “Usually when the girls are working. I think it’s a creepy power move or something.”

“That’s bad,” Richie shakes his head. Putting on an old man voice, he says, _“Let me go jerk off in the bathroom, but I need to make sure I get my retirement fund back!”_

Bill’s laughing along but admits, “It’s not so funny when you have to tell them about the _No Refund_ policy.”

Richie’s shaking his head, flipping through the magazines, and really he shouldn’t be but he’s bored and he thinks it’s funny to look at porn in the middle of a public place. Kind of gives him a thrill and it’s not like he’d keep it open if anyone actually came into the store.  
  
Bill peeks over at them curiously when Richie points out a _good_ one, but really it makes him feel ill. He didn’t see Bev like the girls in the magazine, spread open with a dick sliding in. It was dark and she had her dress on. He feels weird thinking about her, looking at the magazines, knowing Bill’s right there. He’ll never understand why they don’t just talk about it. It’s obvious they both like each other, but they’re both too scared to say anything. 

Richie kind of feels guilty, just then. Like maybe he shouldn’t have slept with her. Maybe it would actually hurt Bill if he finds out, even if it didn’t mean anything. 

He really wishes they’d just talk.

But if anyone would understand why they couldn’t, fuck, _he_ gets it. Telling Eddie how he feels would be a death sentence, though. Bev and Bill would just be a perfect match. 

When it’s time for Bill to close up the bookstore, Richie asks, “You need a ride?”

“Nah, I got my bike.”

“You want to do something? Hang out?”

“Can’t. I promised my mom I’d mow the lawn tonight before it gets dark. Sorry.”

Richie sighs, “Leavin’ me in the dust again, Bill. I’m bored out of my mind in this goddamn town.”

“Get a job.”

“Okay, Dad.”

He leaves the store, folding his magazines in his back pocket, hiding them securely under his shirt as he goes. Driving to the Barrens, he parks his car in a safe place once he gets there. Going straight for the Clubhouse he figures it’s a safe place to stash the mags and if any of the Losers find them he can use Bill as backup. 

Opening the hidden door, his foot almost slips as he climbs down, swearing to himself.

“Jesus!” 

Richie freezes at Eddie’s voice. His eyes haven’t quite adjusted but he looks around at the vague shadowed image of him, “Am I intruding?”

“What?”

“Do you have a girl down here?”

Eddie snaps, “No!”

“Why are you here?” Richie asks him carefully, now able to better see him, leaning against the wall, sitting on the floor.

“Bored. I stopped by your house. You weren’t home.”

That makes Richie’s heart jump. “No, I was at the bookstore. I thought you’d be out getting your dick wet.”

“Gross,” Eddie scoffs. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, Eddie,” he sits down on the ground next to him, pulling the magazines out and leaning against the wall, “We don’t all have the luxury of choice of hot chicks.” He quickly grabs the _Playguy_ and tucks it behind him before Eddie can see.

“What about Bev?” Eddie reaches out and grabs the one on top. “Fuck. Where’d you get these?”

“You know we’re eighteen, right? You can literally go and buy one anywhere, Ed. The fuckin’ 7-Eleven has them. Anyway, Bev was talking about a white picket fence, kids, the whole nine. She’s beside herself, heartbroken that she’ll never get a sample of this cock again, but I told her there are other dicks in the sea. I’m just not ready to settle down.”

“You’re an idiot,” Eddie replies, but he’s not really paying attention as he turns the page.

Richie watches him as he tilts his head, staring wide eyed at the images before him. He grabbed one of the more _artistic_ ones, with tasteful shots of nude women. Or at least Richie assumes they are tasteful. They didn’t have a cock in their ass so that had to count for something.

Richie licks his lip, “I’m sure one of your groupies would be more than willing to offer you a live demonstration.”

Eddie huffs a laugh, then turns the page. They’re quiet for a moment before he asks softly, “What was it like kissing her?”

“Who, Bev?” Richie thinks a minute before he realizes, “I never did.”

“You fucked her but didn’t kiss her?” Eddie doesn’t turn to look at him but Richie can tell he’s tense.

Richie shrugs, “I guess.”

“You kissed _me,_ but you didn’t kiss Bev?” 

He can feel the heat rise in his cheeks as he admits, “That was different.” He _wanted_ to kiss Eddie. He was dying to kiss him. It hadn’t even occurred to him to kiss Bev, which looking back, maybe was another check in the big flaming homo column. Turning it around, he asks, “So who’s the best kisser out of the thousands you’ve been through now?”

Eddie looks up from the magazine. He doesn’t meet Richie’s eyes, instead, closing them, he shakes his head, “It wasn’t that many. Like, maybe five.”

Richie scoffs at that. It’s definitely more people than _he’s_ kissed, and just the idea that _Eddie_ has somehow surpassed them all makes Richie close his own eyes. A glutton for self flagellation, he asks again, “So?”

“I don’t know.”

He sounds sad when he says it. Not what Richie is expecting.

“Are you being an asshole today?” Eddie asks.

Richie wants to reply sarcastically, but there’s a somber undertone in his voice that cautions Richie against it. Instead, he asks softly, “You hold my life in your hands with that secret about me and Bev. I’m at your disposal.”

Eddie’s breath is shaky when he asks, “What did you think of it?”

“Of what?” He asks, genuinely confused.

“You know, when _we-"_

“Oh!” Richie replies quickly. “Uh-” he isn’t sure what Eddie wants to hear.

“It was good, right?”

Richie’s heart is pounding, he wonders if Eddie can hear it. If he knows how his blood is rushing too quickly through his veins, making him feel light headed. “Yeah, Eddie.”

“No, I mean, honestly, Richie. What did you think?”

_That kissing you is how I want to spend every minute of the day._

_The taste of your lips and the salt of your skin was better than I ever could have fantasized._

_That it was the single best moment of my life._

“Was it good?” Eddie barely whispers.

“Yeah, Eddie,” Richie says cautiously, “It was _really_ fucking good.” Then he bites his lip before he can betray himself anymore. 

It feels like Eddie relaxes next to him, pushing further against his side. And Richie’s missed that so damn much. 

“Are all first kisses like that?”

Richie chuckles quietly, he remembers his. It was wet and awkward and he didn’t know what the hell to do with his hands. “Mine wasn’t. You just lucked out that your first kiss was with a makeout master!” The joke feels mistimed and he regrets it immediately, but Eddie ignores him.

“If we did it again, it wouldn’t be the same, though, right?”

And what the fuck is this? Eddie wants to kiss him again? “Uh, I don’t know, Eds.”

“It’s just, I can’t get it out of my head! I kissed all these other girls and I’m comparing them to you the whole time. And I can’t help but think, it’s just because that was my first time, you know? Maybe I put it on a pedestal and it’s not as good as I remember. But no matter who I move on to next, it’s all the same!”

Richie’s hands are trembling when he offers, “You want to try again? Prove it's just as shitty as the rest now that you’ve had experience?” Sweat is beading on his brow at the idea of having Eddie’s lips against his own again.

Eddie looks at him, eyes darting over his face, and he seems pained, like he doesn’t want to admit it. “Is that weird?”

 _NO!_ Richie wants to scream. _Use me however you want._ But instead he shrugs, “It’s fine, Eddie. I don’t mind.” He feels out of depth this time, however. “Um,” he tries, “How do you want to-”

Eddie stands quickly, stepping over Richie’s legs, straddling him above while Richie looks up at him dumbfounded. Just as he’s about to sit, in Richie’s fucking lap _,_ Eddie asks, “This okay?”

Richie nods too enthusiastically, “‘s fine.”

As he lowers himself down, Eddie asks, “‘Placebo’ still the safe word?”

Richie laughs at that, “I was fucking with you about that, man.”

“What if, you know,” he nods down to his lap. A serious gesture that takes a moment for it to sink in.

But when it does, the realization hits Richie hard. Eddie was _turned on_ last time. He had a fucking boner, _that’s_ why he stopped. Richie gave Eddie a stiffy and he tries not to moan with the knowledge of it. As Eddie keeps looking down pointedly at their laps, Richie says, “I’m not afraid of your dick. You get as hard as you want-” _Jesus fucking please._ “It won’t scare me away if you want to keep going. Otherwise, just stop when you want to stop.”

“Isn’t it gay, though?” 

The way he asks is so innocently, and Richie wants to laugh because, yeah, this is gay as hell. Eddie in his lap sporting wood is definitely not on the list of approved heterosexual activities. Instead he says, “Eddie, don’t worry about that. Just- do what feels good, okay?”

And Richie’s definitely going to hell for encouraging his friend to get off in his lap. 

“You won’t make fun of me?”

And Christ this kid. “Eddie, of course I’ll make fun of you. But not for _this,_ okay? I promise you.” _Please just sit on me, now._ “I didn’t go back on my word before, did I? I didn't tell anyone. We don’t ever have to talk about it again.” 

_Just please sit on my cock._

He does lower himself after that. He’s sitting in Richie’s lap but too far away for either of them to really feel anything between them, much to Richie’s disappointment. He tries to hide it by looking at him this time, studying the nervous way his brow is lifted, and how very scared he seems now that he can actually see with his glasses on. Last time it had all been an invisible world, too easy to pretend it was only a dream. 

“Okay?” Richie asks carefully, worried Eddie might bolt.

But Eddie’s already leaning in against him, running his hands through his hair, making Richie shiver. 

Richie lets his eyes flutter shut and this time Eddie takes the lead, pushing his lips against Richie’s. His hands wander immediately up Eddie’s back, feeling the hard curve of it, hardly believing it’s happening again. That Eddie _wanted_ to kiss him again. One of Richie’s hands goes to the base of Eddie’s neck, soft hair beneath his fingertips. He’d kill to be able to touch those locks whenever he wanted. 

Eddie’s forceful trying to take over, no longer scared or uncertain of what he’s doing. Richie almost misses his coy, timid act from the first time because now he’s got moves. Things Richie never showed him. He pushes it from his mind, wondering from which girl he picked up which trick, because it hurts to know that it wasn’t him.

Instead, he positions Eddie’s head how he wants it, and takes over. Slows him down. Lapping his tongue in, firm but careful. Loving the way Eddie’s slides against him like he belongs there. He pulls away enough to suck in Eddie’s bottom lip, bringing it into his mouth is a definite ticket straight to hell with the way Eddie’s gasping around him. Richie sucks harder, then bites at it, giving Eddie a taste of what it’s like to feel a little pain. A little excitement. Let him know he won’t break. He’s not as fragile as he thinks. 

Eddie grinds down into his lap and Richie wants to reach out _there_ too. To touch him. To see if he’s hard. The way Eddie is squirming makes _Richie_ hard. 

He gets an idea but he’s not sure Eddie will go for it and he’s terrified of stopping what they have. But he needs to try, so he pulls away and asks, “Okay?”

“Yeah, why’d you stop?” Eddie’s lip are swollen and his hair is dishevelled and fuck that’s the hottest thing Richie’s ever seen because _he_ fucking did that to him.

“Scoot back and give me five minutes without losing your shit. Five minutes, okay? If you hate it then we’ll stop.” 

_Please don’t hate it._ _Don’t hate me._

He pushes Eddie back, making him sit on the ground, until he grips his shoulder and guides him to lie on his back.

“This is fucking disgusting, dude. There are spiders and who knows what the hell else has been shitting and-”

Richie kisses him to shut him up. _“Three_ minutes. And if I can’t make you forget then we’ll be done if you want.”

Eddie’s eyes are wide at that which makes Richie smile. He closes the gap between them again. This time as he’s kissing Eddie, Richie places his entire body over him, weight and all. Draping himself over Eddie’s smaller frame, pushing into him and both gasp as their equally hard cocks graze against each other.

“Fuck,” Eddie sighs, pulling Richie back in with a fist threaded through Richie’s hair.

They’re kissing hard like they’re fighting over it, leaning over the edge of the precipice to see who can get closer. Daring the other to look just a little further, hearts racing and teeth clashing, and it’s the hottest fucking thing Richie’s ever experienced. He feels so goddamn alive for the first time in years. 

He’s kissing Eddie and Eddie’s kissing him back like it’s okay. Like it’s better than okay. Like it’s the only thing he wants to do with himself. The ferocity in which Eddie is pulling at him, grabbing him close and moaning around his tongue nearly has Richie in tears because he doesn’t know how he can stop. How can he know what this is like and give it up willingly, never to do it again?

He’s out of breath and so fucking in love with Eddie, it hurts his chest. He’s so close to having everything he wants, but Eddie will never know. And that thought is the only one that gives him pause. 

It’s only been a few minutes but Richie knows he’s about to fuck it up. Push too far. Try to get Eddie’s dick down his throat and reveal everything. 

Instead, he forces himself to stop, and it feels like the worst crime he’s ever committed and he’s already regretting it. But if he doesn’t stop now he never will, and that will be so much worse.

Smiling sadly against his lips, Richie pulls away enough to ask, “So, what’s the verdict on the _second_ first kiss?”

“Fuck,” Eddie blinks up at him, like he just realizes he’s there.

“I mean, not usually on the first date but I’ll make an exception for you, Eds,” Richie tries to tease him but his heart is sinking. 

_It’s a joke, it’s all just a fucking joke._

Eddie pushes at his chest, so Richie gets up. “Do you always get so hard from that? Your dick is gonna bruise my leg.” 

Richie’s embarrassed for a minute, before he remembers, “You’re just as hard, dipshit!”

Eddie sits back next to the forgotten magazines, absently running his hands through his hair to tame the mess Richie made of it. He asks, “Why’d you bring these here anyway?” 

Richie knows he’s deflecting, but he lets him. He doesn’t know what Eddie expects him to say to make what just happened any easier.

“I was gonna jerk off,” and that’s definitely not it.

“You come all the way _out here_ just to beat off?”

“When it’s a beautiful day like today-” Richie grabs a magazine and opens it up casually. “You know me, slinging the man-mayo from one corner of Derry to the next.”

“That’s fucking gross, dude.” Eddie shakes his head but leans closer against Richie.

They’re both still hard, Richie knows it. The tits on display don’t help that matter for Eddie, he’s sure. Licking his lips, Richie turns the page. He lets his finger wander over the image, down to the bottom.

“Do you know about the clit?” Richie asks. Despite Bev’s taunts, Richie does know about it. He learned everything he fucking could about pleasing women incase anyone dared to question him, he’d be prepared. But he doesn’t give Eddie a chance to reply before he’s turning the page and the same woman now has her legs spread open. Richie’s finger trails down her body to point it out, “Right there. You suck right there and they’ll be goin’ wild.”

“Did you do that to Bev?” Eddie’s voice is so faint.

Richie tries not to blanch at the thought. “Nah,” he replies cooly instead. 

He can tell Eddie’s breathing heavily next to him. Richie looks down to see his hard dick tenting his shorts. He curses himself for ever taking his body away from it. That cock, _Eddie’s_ cock, was pushed against his and he was dumb enough to stop it.

Richie turns the page and now the woman is bent over and there’s a muscular man with a hard dick lined up behind her, prick barely in.

“Shit,” Eddie whispers.

Richie swallows back the lump in his throat and dares to reach down to unzip his pants. He watches as Eddie’s eyes are staring at his lap as he does it, biting at his lip.

“It’s okay,” Richie says, but he doesn’t fucking mean it. Nothing is okay down in their Clubhouse where he felt the hard line of his best friend firmly against his body.

Eddie unzips his pants, copying him slowly. Richie watches with a sharp eye, the way he fists himself over his boxers. 

Biting his lip, gripping his own hard cock, Richie says, “You want to see the good shit?”

Eddie nods, so Richie turns a few more pages, and there in full display, the woman is stretched open by two men. Dick in her ass and another in her cunt, and the skin is pulled so taught between the cocks. Even Richie can agree it’s hot.

“Fuck,” Eddie sighs. 

Richie moves the magazine so it’s on Eddie’s legs for a better view. He starts pulling himself off, stroking absently, dick still hidden in his own boxers. “Look how tight she is, Eddie,” he whispers close to Eddie’s ear.

Eddie’s gripping himself, staring at the page, breathing heavily.

Richie turns the page for him, to Eddie’s distress, but he’s quickly rewarded when he sees a similar scene, only there’s a third prick in her mouth this time. And Eddie moans at that sight. 

Richie starts to pump himself with intention now, listening to the way Eddie’s fucking his own fist.

He feels so close to coming. Close to Eddie. And Eddie’s shifting, adjusting his clothes and now Richie can see it, the tip of his cock popping out of his fist.

“Fuck, Eds,” he gasps into his ear. Richie’s too close to him, he knows. And he has another bad idea but he can’t help himself as he’s reaching through the fog of his own high, “It’s okay, Eddie. Just let me help.”

Richie’s heart is pounding in his chest and his hand is shaking as he reaches for him. He touches Eddie’s fist, Eddie lets go of himself and for a brief moment Riche can see it. But then his hand is acting on its own and he’s gripping his prick. Velvety soft but so fucking hard, with the tip already leaking and goddamn Eddie’s moaning around his grasp. Richie leans in far enough to spit on it, slicking up his dick enough to pump and pull and watch wide eyed, not knowing if he should look at his dick or watch the way Eddie’s tilting his head back, gasping against the wall.

“So fucking hot, Eds,” he pumps faster, swiping his thumb over the tip and rubbing on the sensitive part that feels too good. 

Eddie’s arching his back further into the wall, coming over Richie’s fist with a moan, and Richie pulls him through it slowly until he’s trembling.

Richie’s close now too, but he needs friction. He uses his come covered hand on himself, beating and pulling and biting his lip and it doesn’t take long because he’s jacking off with Eddie’s jizz. It happens too fast, coming nearly over the idea of Eddie alone, knowing that they’re mixed together on his hand. 

Breathing slowly, he tries to calm his rapid heart. The fog is lifting and he feels like maybe he just did something terrible.

“Uh-” Richie’s holding his hand out, staring at it, slick with Eddie’s and his own. Asking himself over and over, _Holy fuck. Did I just do that? Fuck! I fucked up._

Eddie’s tucking himself in and standing, backing away, sending the magazines flying as he goes.

“I should-” Eddie starts, but he’s not meeting Richie’s eyes. He’s staring at the ground.

Richie’s positive his heart is beating out of his chest. He wipes his hand on the inside of his button up shirt and tries to ignore the mess on his pants as he gathers himself to stand. 

“What the fuck is that?” Eddie points at the ground. His voice is rough and quiet.

Richie’s stomach sinks as he watches Eddie pick it up. In a panic, he teases, “It’s for you. I was gonna slip it in your bag on Monday.”

“I’m not a fuckin’ faggot,” he throws the magazine at his chest. 

He can see panic in Eddie’s eyes that he’s sure are reflected in his own, but hearing that word hits him hard. He scoffs, like Eddie wasn’t _begging_ for it only minutes ago. But Richie is terrified that he’s gonna throw that word at him next, so he spits back, “Could have fooled me the way you were fucking my fist!”

“Fuck you, asshole!” Eddie pushes him and he stumbles back.

Richie recovers easily enough and moves back into him. Eddie’s the one who’s been asking Richie to kiss him. He started it all, or at least went along with it. And Richie’s tired of feeling like the only freak in the group. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

In the space it takes him to blink, Richie is doubled over in pain from the punch Eddie throws to his nose.

“Ah! Fuck!” His glasses are gone, somewhere on the ground.

Eddie’s pushing back, shoving and crowding into him, gritting, “I’m not gay!” 

Richie tries to slap Eddie’s hands away as he says, “The way you’re dying to shove your tongue down my throat-”

Eddie throws his fist again and it connects with his cheek before Richie can finish. And fuck, the little thing that Eddie is can sure pack a punch.

He deserves it, he knows he does. The way he pushed Eddie into it all. Richie crossed a line weeks ago with the first kiss, but what he just did now is unforgivable. So he blocks what he can with his arms, trying to hide behind them, but doesn’t try to stop each blow. Instead, he relishes the sting. Outside of himself he can hear Eddie grunting and mumbling and swearing, until Richie feels blood dripping from his nose. 

Eddie finally backs off.

Richie’s laying back on the ground, breathing heavily, squinting up at Eddie. He feels around for his glasses and puts them on just in time to see Eddie running from the clubhouse. 

He hurts. He’s in so much goddamn pain. But he had his hand around _Eddie’s_ dick. And Eddie fucked him up for it, so he deserves it.

Lying back, closing his eyes like the asshole he is, Richie feels like it may have almost been worth it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is one of two playlists](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLnAjBQAstdJ6sGmSwcrBRZwHUgzFJdKxE) for the songs in this fic.

**Eddie**

Eddie’s knuckles have dried blood on them. _Richie’s_ blood. Absently he rubs at them as he stomps out of the Clubhouse but he doesn’t realize what it is until he reaches home. Scrubbing them under hot water, the blood is dried on and his skin turns red and puffy as he works them clean. Even with the blood gone, he still feels filthy. Dirty enough to turn the shower on, too hot, and step in. Scalding heat trickles over his head, washing his memories away, and he holds himself under as long as he can deal with the pain. 

Everything is so fucked up and he doesn’t know how it got this way.

The girls. 

He’d kissed so many fucking girls and none of them meant a damn thing to him and he doesn’t understand why. With each new one interested he had a renewed hope that maybe she would be the one to erase the memories of Richie from his mind. 

Because he couldn’t stop thinking about him.

He couldn’t stop.

He’d lie awake at night begging his brain to just quit. Please _stop_ thinking about the way Richie’s hair fell over him, brushing against his cheeks when they kissed. The way his mouth tasted and how genuine and soft he’d been with him, never teasing him once for feeling so left behind.

Eddie wasn’t left behind now. 

He wished more than anything he never would have said a word to Richie, because now he had this fucked up wringing in his gut. Churning with nerves whenever he sees him in the hall at school. And it’s worse when he touches him, shoulder checking or hands over his own, fighting to grab a pencil from his grasp. A straight line to his heart, making it beat hard and fast, and he needs to swallow it all down but nothing makes the unrest stop.

And the fucking Clubhouse had been the best of his dreams and worst of his nightmares. Richie had his hand on his dick like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t the biggest sin they could commit, keening into each other, gasping and panting together. It was too much and not enough all at once and his greatest fear is Richie finding out how much he loves the way he makes him feel.

He tries so hard not to think about the other part. Not to wonder if he was a fucking queer just like he’d been called so many times before. The slur was easier to brush aside when it wasn’t founded, but now he wonders if maybe everyone saw something in him he hadn’t seen in himself this whole time.

_Did everyone know but me? Am I really the last to find out?_

Images from _that_ magazine, with the men, burn behind his eyes. 

_Even Richie knew._

Eddie’s throat feels tight and he can’t stop himself from crying. He tilts his head under the water letting it burn the evidence away. 

Monday comes too soon. He debates telling his mom he’s sick, and he _is,_ isn’t he? But there are only a precious few weeks of school left and the pull of seeing his friends is too strong. And it’s not like he wants to be trapped home any longer than he has been. Stuck perseverating in his own thoughts the remainder of the weekend was bad enough. So he goes to school. He finds Stan as soon as he can, pulling books from his locker.

“Did you see Richie yet?” Stan asks before anything else.

Eddie’s heart races, “No. Why would I?”

Stan gives him a weird look, raising his eyebrows, but replies, “Someone beat the shit out of him.”

Tensing, he asks, “Did he say what happened?”

Shrugging, Stan says, “He just made some joke about getting caught with a married woman. He wouldn’t tell the truth.”

“Where is he now?” Eddie tries to ask casually.

“I think he went straight to class. He seemed weird. I mean more than normal. You don’t know what happened?”

“Why the hell would I know?”

Eddie feels a wave of guilt wash over him. He made him bleed. He hurt him enough that he had Richie’s blood on his own knuckles. And, if he were honest he knew Richie didn’t deserve it. Eddie panicked. Richie called him gay, like he _knew it,_ and Eddie just wanted to shut him up. 

But he shouldn’t have hit him. 

He makes a quick excuse, telling Stan he forgot something at his locker, and walks right to Richie’s first class. Kids are crowding in the hall around the door, but he can peek in enough to see Richie with his head down at his desk. Floppy dark hair, splayed all over the top, head resting on his arms. When he lifts his head, Eddie ducks behind someone, but he has time to see his bruised cheek and black eye behind his glasses.

It looks fucking bad.

Eddie's stomach lurches and he feels sick. 

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he turns around and walks to his first class. 

He isn't able to concentrate all morning. Images of Richie’s skin, purple and tender, flood his thoughts. Flexing and tightening his fist, his wrist still hurts. His knuckles feel tender. It’s all because he is an asshole and had to throw punches at his best friend.

He knows he needs to apologize, but the idea of confronting him, seeing him face-to-face, feels too overwhelming. The pit of his stomach drops on the way to the cafeteria in anticipation. Unpacking his lunch at their usual table, he blinks at it blankly, not really seeing it. 

_What the hell am I going to say to Richie?_

The familiar sounds of the trays clang around him. He listens to Ben and Bill laughing and takes a deep breath, bravely looking up. But Richie isn’t anywhere to be found. He looks around the lunchroom but doesn’t see his gangly limbs and bad clothing anywhere.

“He’s eating in his car,” Stan offers.

Eddie sighs in relief. He shouldn’t feel glad that Richie isn’t going to be there, but he is. His appetite returns and he’s able to take a bite of his sandwich. He can feel Stan’s questioning eyes on him but he ignores it, instead joking with Ben about what happened in his science class that morning.

Richie doesn’t eat with them the whole week.

Each day Eddie tells himself, _This is the day. I’ll apologize and everything can just go back to normal._ But Richie stays away from him. He hasn’t seen him since the weekend. Eddie still catches glimpses of him in the halls. He’s desperate to make eye contact, to get anything from him to know they’ll be okay. But Richie stays clear which makes it that much harder to feel like they’ll ever speak again.

By Friday Eddie is determined to get it over with. He spends the whole morning hyping himself up for it. All he has to do is just go up to him, tell him he’s sorry, and hope that Richie will accept it. It’s all he _can_ do. But every time he sees him, Richie turns away, dodging down the hall, and Eddie can never catch up in time. 

So he gives up on that idea, clutching his books, he spends the rest of the day running through other plans in his mind. Anything to get Richie to talk to him.

While he’s deep in thought, Eddie turns the corner he runs directly into him.

“Fuck,” Richie swears, looking down at him with wide eyes, even bigger than his glasses normally make them seem.

Eddie knows he’s staring back, looking up at him with his mouth hanging open like an idiot. And he can see the bruises more clearly now. They’re starting to heal with greens and brown tinting his skin, but it still makes Eddie feel awful. _He_ did that to Richie. _He_ hurt him like that.

“Shit, Rich-”

“I- I can’t-” Richie spins on his heel and practically runs down the hall. 

Eddie thinks he calls after him but he can’t be sure the sound ever made it past the lump in his throat.

At lunch Stan asks him directly, “Did _you_ do it?”

“Do what?” His brow furrows.

“Beat the shit out of Richie.”

Eddie blushes at that. And, it’s really not helpful but his mind provides a strong image of Richie _beating_ him- beating him _off,_ that is, at the Clubhouse. “No,” he chokes out around his food. Setting his sandwich down, he absently flexes his fist and takes a drink. Carefully, he asks, “What did _he_ say?”

“Yikes, not very subtle,” Bill says.

“What happened?” Ben asks.

“What did Richie say?” Eddie says again. “Is he mad at me?”

Bill coughs a laugh, “Well, he won’t eat with us anymore, so-”

Eddie sighs.

“What _happened?”_ Ben repeats.

Eddie’s mouth hangs open, but he shakes his head because he really doesn’t know how to answer that. “He just was being a dick, like usual, and I was sick of it.”

“Was it the magazine?” Bill wonders.

Stan and Ben look at Bill as Eddie rolls his eyes. “Jesus fuck,” he shakes his head, “He told you he was gonna do that?”

Bill shrugs, “He got it at the bookshop.”

“What magazine?” Ben asks.

Bill answers, “Richie bought a nudie mag and was gonna sneak it into Eddie’s bag as a joke. Did your mom find it or something?” 

Eddie laughs morosely. It would be so much easier if that’s all it was.

“You beat the hell out of him because of _that?”_ Stan asks skeptically.

“No, okay! No!” Eddie shakes his head, gesturing wildly with his hands, “He just- he was being _Richie._ Running his mouth, never knowing when to stop. He just keeps going and going, then he did the stupid magazine thing so I punched him.”

Ben’s eyebrows are raised high in surprise, “Are you still mad at him?”

_No._ Eddie wants to say. He misses him. He feels sick everyday that Richie won’t speak to him. Eddie just shrugs his shoulders, “I think he’s probably more mad at _me.”_

“You should talk to him. Ap-pologize to him,” Bill says.

“Yeah, I know,” Eddie hangs his head. “Have you been talking to him?” He asks Bill hopefully.

“He wouldn’t talk about it but it’s obvious he’s pretty miserable right now.”

That makes Eddie feel worse, so he nods his head solemnly, “I’ll fix it.”

He’s resolute in his decision Friday night.

Taking a shower, and pushes any wandering thoughts of _wandering hands_ from his mind as he lathers up, he rehearses what he's going to say to Richie. Looking in his closet, he berates himself for how long he spends staring at his clothes before grabbing one of his favorite shirts and throwing it on with some jeans. Staring in the mirror, his hair feels too long, he definitely needs a haircut. He brushes his teeth, gives himself one more look over, then waits.

He yells goodnight to his mom through the wall and lies in his bed under the covers, staring at the ceiling, listening for the sounds of her retiring to her own room for the evening. After she finally falls asleep he writes a note for his bed, letting her know not to worry too much just in case she happens to wake and finds him missing, then he sneaks out, headed straight for Richie’s.

Reminding himself he’s only going there to apologize, he doesn’t even know if Richie will speak to him. He doesn’t allow himself to think about the way Richie made him feel last time they were alone together. That’s the part that makes his throat tighten up.

Because it was good. 

It was _so_ fucking good. Kissing him is unlike kissing any of the girls he’s been with, and Eddie doesn’t know _why._ He doesn’t understand what Richie does that is any different from them. And that’s when the plaguing thoughts sift in. 

_Nothing is different, unless I really am g-_

He pushes it away, because he can’t deal with that right now. All he has to worry about is making it right with Richie again so he can have his friend back. So he goes over it again, and again, replaying what he wants to tell him the whole way over.

Finally standing outside his house, he sees Richie’s car on the street. A quiet part of himself had been hoping that maybe he wouldn’t be home.

Taking a deep breath, he walks up the stairs and gets ready to knock on the front door.

  
  


**Richie**

Richie’s week has fucking sucked.

He fucked up. He royally fucked up, and he knows it. And he earned every last swing Eddie threw at him, plus a few more. 

Maybe a kick or two added in.

He swore to himself he’d stay away. With only a few weeks of school left, he could do it. He’d do it _for_ Eddie. If there was anything he could give him, it would be the distance, because the things he wanted to do with him were sick, and selfish, and if Richie caused him even a fraction of the self inflicted pain _he_ felt then Richie didn’t deserve his friendship.

It is a Friday night and he is keeping himself at home. He already knew he was a loser, but this is just more evidence for the pile. Deciding his best course of action is to wallow, he throws on _The Downward Spiral_ , closes his eyes, and lets the melodies of Trent Reznor take him away. 

Lying on his bed, his thoughts always drift to Eddie. He knows _The Song_ is coming. He knows he should get up and change it before it does. But he’s wallowing, damnit. So he’s going to allow it. He takes his glasses off to rub the heel of his palms into his eyes when it starts.

  
  
_You let me violate you_

_You let me desecrate you_

_You let me penetrate you_

_You let me complicate you_

He allows his mind to wander on that too long. Complicate _._ Desecrate. Violate. And if Eddie would let him, yeah he’d like to _penetrate_ him _._ That’s why he knows he needs to stay away.

The song continues on and he knows he shouldn't think of him at all. It hurts. It hurts so fucking much in his chest, burning straight through. But he _had_ him. He kissed him and felt him hard in his hand, and Eddie gasped for him. Came because of _him._ And it was so goddamn perfect. Richie knows deep in his soul he’ll never have _this_ kind of love for anyone but Eddie. He _knows_ it.

_Help me_

_Tear down my reason_

_Help me_

_It's your sex I can smell_

_Help me_

_You make me perfect_

_Help me become somebody else_

His eyes are already welling up, because they sting and burn and he _wants_ to cry. 

He hates how much he loves him. It makes him crazy and all he wants is for it to fucking stop. He can’t turn his brain off, it’s the goddamn Eddie Show running twenty-four seven, and Richie doesn’t know how to make it quit.

The knock on his door is too soft, but he looks up to see it already swinging open.

_I want to fuck you like an animal_

_My whole existence is flawed_

_You get me closer to god_

Scrambling for his glasses, he sees Eddie standing there, in the doorway of his room with his big doe eyes looking like he wandered in someplace he doesn’t belong.

Richie should stop the song, he really should stop the fucking song. Swallowing back the lump in his throat, he gets out of his bed and turns the music down.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Richie wonders if he willed him there with his thoughts.

“I- Your mom let me in.”

Eddie looks good. Eddie always looks good. 

Richie sighs and returns to his bed, flopping back on it, closing his eyes.

He listens to the door latch shut and absently wonders if maybe Eddie decided it was a bad idea, turned around and left. 

“Richie-”

_Guess not._

“What do you want?” He doesn’t say it with heat. It’s hard enough to ignore Eddie without him standing in his room, let alone when he’s right there.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

Richie opens one eye. That’s not what he is expecting, then again, he wasn't planning on Eddie being in his bedroom ever again. He wonders what he could say to drive him away. Maybe he could admit he’s gay? Tell him he’s been in love with him so long that he doesn’t remember ever not feeling it burn. 

That’ll scare him off.

“I shouldn’t have hit you,” Eddie continues. “I was mad-”

Richie scoffs, “Yeah, ya fuckin’ think?” His nose still hurts like a bitch when he touches it, but the bruises around his eye are healing.

“I’m sorry, Richie. I freaked out. I thought you were making fun of me and I just kind of flipped, but I miss you.”

He sits up and positions himself to better see him. Eddie’s twisting his fingers and he looks like he’s getting ready to search for his inhaler.

“Okay?” He wonders what he can tell Eddie to keep him away, because the voice inside him is still screaming to bring him in close and kiss him.

“Richie-” Eddie pleads.

“What do you expect? I gave you a handjob and you fucked up my face. I think that covers it all.” 

Eddie walks over and sits next to him on his bed. He should be telling him to leave but the words don’t form right on his tongue. _Tell him to go! Tell him you hate him!_ But his heart is racing.

“Richie, I’m so fucking sorry and it’s eating me up that you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you,” he lets slip. 

“Why won’t you talk to me? Why won’t you sit with us anymore?”

“Because I-” _I’m no good for you. I’ll ruin you. I’ll destroy who you are, Eds, and I love who you are._ “I don’t regret what happened, and you do.” It’s the truth and he shouldn’t have told him, but maybe it’s enough to scare him away.

“I don’t regret it,” Eddie replies, fumbling with his fingers. “Okay, I kind of regret it. I’m _not_ gay-”

“Okay, Eddie,” Richie interrupts, rolling his eyes, standing up. Walking over to the door, he holds it open and gestures for him to leave, “Well, it was great of you to drop by, but you can fuck off now.” 

Eddie doesn’t stand up. He can see the nervous ball of energy twitching to stay still on his bed. 

“I miss you, Richie. I don’t want something stupid like this to be the end of our friendship!”

“‘Stupid’ like you beating the hell out of me? Like _Bowers_ used to? Like how many other fucking assholes in this fucking town want to? Just because I’m different. Something stupid like that?” He doesn’t know if Eddie understands what he’s talking about, but Eddie’s standing now.

And walking over to Richie. 

And wrapping his arms around him in a tight embrace. 

He says softly, “Richie, I’m so fucking sorry.” Eddie sniffles against him and it almost sounds like he’s crying. “I need you, Richie. Please. If you want to hit me, do it. I don't care.”

Richie knows better, his conscience tells him not to, but once again he ignores that fucker and returns the hug. “Eddie, hey, come on. Don’t cry. It’s okay.”

Walking him over to the bed, Richie makes him sit back down. Grabbing his left hand, Richie puts it in his lap. He studies the faded scar that matches his own and begins to trace it lightly. He feels the way it makes Eddie shiver, but he knows it calms him down. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Richie says to Eddie’s hand. “I never should have done that. I thought you-” he inhales, trying to will his voice not to shake, “Nevermind what I thought. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“You said you don’t regret it,” Eddie whispers.

Richie’s finger trails along the pads of his palm, up his index finger and down before he admits, “I regret hurting you.”

_“I’m_ the one that kicked the shit out of _you.”_

Dropping his hand, he pushes into Eddie’s shoulder with his own, “I let you, dude. Don’t go thinking you’re hot shit because I never even tried to stop you. In a fair fight I’d take you down like that!” He snaps.

“Suddenly you have experience fighting?”

“Oh, like _you_ do?”

“I didn’t do too bad,” Eddie lifts his hand and reaches out.

Richie can tell he’s about to touch what’s left of his bruised eye, so he flops back down on the bed to get out of his reach. They may be joking about it, but he’s not ready for the tenderness Eddie’s trying to display.

“Right. You can hold your own, as long as whoever you’re pummeling is in the fetal position on the ground not fighting back. Noted.”

Eddie lays back, staring at the ceiling. 

They stay that way for several minutes, neither knowing what to say, listening to the soft music that’s still playing. Richie wonders how long Eddie’s planning on staying and if he needs to give him a ride home. He probably should. 

“Do you want a lift home?” He finally asks. 

“Can I stay the night? I’ll leave before my mom wakes up tomorrow morning.”

There’s a lump in Richie’s throat that he tries to swallow back. He replies, “I’m not driving you at ass-o’clock in the morning, dude.”

“I’ll walk back.”

Richie sighs, “Fine.”

Eddie elbows him, “Thanks, Rich.”

If the weight in his gut is any indication, he knows it’s a bad idea, but he can’t tell Eddie no. “Do you want the guest room?” He asks, knowing Eddie never accepts it, but things are different now so he thinks he ought to offer. He adds, “Full disclosure. Bev and I fucked on my bed.”

“Eww,” Eddie sits up. “You changed the sheets since then, right?”

Richie honestly didn’t see the reason too, so he just shrugs.

“Richie, that’s disgusting.” Eddie’s pulling him from the bed, complaining about seminal and vaginal fluid, pushing Richie out of his room, ordering him to return with clean sheets. They fucked on top of the comforter, but Richie doesn’t tell him that. 

When he returns and they strip his bed as he teases Eddie mercilessly for the precision of the clean corners while Eddie lectures him about the importance of a tight tuck for optimal sleeping conditions.

It feels normal, which Richie is grateful for, despite failing spectacularly at keeping Eddie away. 

After that night, everything falls back into place between them. By Monday Richie’s eye is mostly healed and it’s like it never happened. Of course it _did._ And of course he spends far too long torturing himself with the memory of what led to it. But things are good, like before all the kissing anyway, and Richie swears to himself he won’t do anything to fuck it up. Eddie is even back to ignoring the girls, which Richie particularly enjoys.

The rest of the school year goes fast. They’re all relieved to dump their notebooks by the time they fly out of the school doors for the last time. Graduation is bittersweet, Richie knows this is going to be the last summer they’re all together and he wants to make it special. 

So he starts to make a list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is one of two playlists](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLnAjBQAstdJ6sGmSwcrBRZwHUgzFJdKxE) for the songs in this fic.
> 
> Closer - Nine Inch Nails


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Bev's Mixed Tape!](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLnAjBQAstdJ7tl-hqPHH-VYU-Uvyw9u6v) Second playlist for the songs in this fic.

**Eddie**

“Wanna see _Speed_ again?” Richie suggests to the group.

“How many times have you seen it?” Mike asks.

Richie shrugs.

“At least three,” Eddie smirks. He knows because Richie dragged him to the theater twice already, insisting it was the best film of the summer.

“What can I say? Sandra Bullock is hot,” Richie counters. “I’m sorry if you don’t appreciate her, Ed.”

“Sandra Bullock,” scoffing, Eddie replies quietly, “You mean _Keanu Reeves?”_

Richie elbows him hard. 

“Ow! You dick!” Eddie pushes him back.

Stan pulls Richie away, shaking his head.

“Uh, let’s skip _Speed,_ ” Bill sighs.

“You know who could have used Keanu Reeves? Fuckin’ OJ Simpson. Holy fuck, did you guys see that shit?” Richie rubs his arm where Eddie pushed into him, glaring at him.

“Everyone fucking saw it, dude. The whole country saw it! The only thing on TV was the fucking car chase,” Eddie gestures.

“Excuse me for trying to have a meaningful conversation about current events. I guess I’ll go fuck myself.”

“Children,” Stan shakes his head, exasperated, “Please stop.”

“Okay,” Bill tries again. 

“Clubhouse?” Ben offers.

“Too many of us at once and we’ll boil down there,” Richie says.

“What about a bonfire?” Mike says. “My grandpa needs to clear some brush. We have plenty of firewood. It’s still pretty cold at night.”

“It’s like 5:30. Sun won’t set for a couple hours,” Stan replies. 

“We could get some food and supplies then head over,” Ben suggests. “I can get some marshmallows.”

“Who can bring the beer? I can’t steal enough for all of us,” Richie adds.

“You probably could,” Eddie shrugs. Over the years he’s grown jealous at the freedom Richie has from his parents. Anything would be better than what Eddie’s living in.

“You’re right. What the hell,” Richie sighs, “Are my parents gonna ground me? I’m an adult. Fine. _I’ll_ bring the alcohol.”

“It’s too bad Bev can’t be here,” Bill says.

Eddie watches as Richie purposefully ignores Bill’s eyes. Stan catches Eddie’s glance. He knows he’s asking, _Did they actually sleep together? Did you find out?_ It feels like a small betrayal, but he nods back to Stan, trying to say, _Yeah, but don’t bring it up!_ He thinks Stan gets the message because he’s lifting his eyebrows and shaking his head, like he can’t believe it.

“Maybe next weekend we can call her? See if she can visit?” Ben asks the group hopefully.

“If you’re expecting _me_ to get her, then you better pitch in for gas money!” Richie says. “Some of us have to beg our parents for cold hard cash.”

“I’ll pick her up next time. My parents are giving me their old van soon, so I can take it to college. I just need to pass the exam,” Ben smiles sweetly. 

“It’d be good to see her again,” Bill says. “Okay, so luh-let’s go stock up then meet at Mike’s at 8:30.”

They all agree and split ways, except for Eddie who follows Richie. Eddie knows if he goes home now his mom will beg him to stay in for the night. It’s not that he can’t just walk out, he can, but she makes him feel so damn guilty if he does. He knows he’s all she has left and soon she won’t even have him, even if he has promised to come back every weekend. But he knows it's a lie. There’s a selfish part of him that wants to leave Derry behind and never return. But while he’s still here he’s trying to be kind to her.

Opening the passenger door, Eddie climbs in. Richie’s car has become so familiar to him. The old scent of it, worn and well used before Richie ever got his hands on it. There’s garbage in the front foot well, which Eddie kicks around in disgust, but soon they’re driving and he forgets about it entirely. They sing along with the radio. Weekends always go overboard with Nirvana in tribute to Kurt Cobain. Eddie never really got the appeal but Richie belts out the words like no one is watching, which makes him smile. 

Together he and Richie have been doing well. Ever since he apologized. Eddie had been worried he’d fucked up enough to lose him forever, but Richie seems just as willing to move past it like it was nothing. 

It _wasn’t_ nothing. 

But they were both good at pretending.

Eddie thinks about Richie’s hands on him, kissing him, grinding against him, more hours of the day than he’d ever admit, even to himself. He stopped seeing the girls because it reminded him too much of Richie. 

At first he told himself it didn’t have to mean anything. So he liked someone getting him off, so what? That’s hardly a surprise. But he knew it was a weak excuse and at that point he was only lying to himself. 

Richie was an asshole and an idiot, and couldn’t be serious if his life depended on it (which Eddie knew for a fact when he thought about that fucking clown), and Eddie couldn’t calm his racing heart when he was around him. 

It was so fucking stupid. Out of everyone in the group, why the hell did it have to be _Richie?!_

When they get to his house, Eddie goes straight for Richie’s bedroom, barging through like he owns the place.

Richie asks, “What are you gonna tell your mom?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. Have a good excuse for me?”

“Oh! Tell her you’re giving her space so it’s not so awkward when I show up to lay pipe.”

Eddie recoils in disgust, “You’re so fucking gross, dude.” Opening Richie’s closet he stares at the array of equally offending shirts, “This is pathetic. You know that, right? Where are your sweatshirts?”

Richie points to his bottom dresser drawer with an amused smile which Eddie ignores. He goes to the drawer and pulls out two of them.

“What the hell?” Richie protests.

“It’ll get cold after the sun sets,” Eddie pulls one over his head. It’s huge on him and smells like Richie which makes him feel warm. Throwing the other to Richie, who’s only staring back at him, he chastises, “Seriously, dude. The fire will be fine if we get it going enough but if we don't you’ll be glad you have it. And don’t get me started on the fucking mosquitos-”

“Please stop,” Richie shakes his head, reluctantly pulling the sweatshirt on. “Happy?”

Eddie fires a sarcastic smile his way, showing off his teeth.

“Oh, I know!” Richie says suddenly, “Just tell her you offered to help at Mike’s for some cash.”

Sighing, he says, “Yeah, that might work.” 

“Remind her that you’re an adult and she needs to chill the fuck out.”

“Yeah, that will _totally_ work. Thanks for the _great_ advice, Rich. I can’t believe I’ve never thought of that before!” Putting his hands on his hips he looks around Richie’s room, “Should we take a blanket? Do you have any camping chairs?”

“No, Eds.” Richie wraps his arm around his shoulder and steers him out of his room, “You’re overthinking this. Go call your mom, I’ll get the booze. Hey, you don’t know anyone who sells pot, do you?”

“No. You don’t know what they lace in that shit anyway. And if a cop pulls you over a drug dog could rip your leg off for it. They won’t even care about your mangled bloody stump except now they have to carry you to the jail cell leaving a trail.” Eddie walks away to some smart ass remark Richie is making at his expense, so he flips him off as he finds his way to the phone in the kitchen. 

By some miracle, the call goes better than he expects. He only has to walk around the lie a few times before she agrees. After hanging up the phone, he goes back to Richie’s room and grabs a light blanket that’s half hanging off of his bed, then wanders through the house until he finds him raiding his parents' alcohol stash.

“Where are your parents this time?”

“Fuck if I know. You think they tell me?” He points to the blanket, “What the hell? Sure man, just steal my shit.”

“I’m not going to freeze out there! If you don't like it you can suffer.”

“Fine, whatever,” Richie leads him out of his house. “I know you just wanna cuddle.” 

Eddie feels his face warm because maybe the thought passed through his mind, but he replies quickly, “Fuck off.” 

Though he doesn’t particularly enjoy being teased, it feels more like things are normal between them again, which is a relief. Like Richie’s no longer walking on eggshells, waiting for Eddie to punch him without warning.

He kicks at Richie’s feet, making him stumble a little on the way to his car. 

“You little shit,” Richie cries. “Don’t make me drop the booze! I’m clutching the sweet nectar of the gods and you just want me to waste it on the sidewalk?”

“Hurry up!” Shoving the blanket into the backseat, he waits for Richie to get behind the wheel.

Then they’re driving out to Mike’s farm. 

When they get there, its dusk. Ben and Stan are setting up logs and twigs in a pit. Mike hands them the accelerant and steps back as they try to get the flames to catch.

Eddie gives him a sad smile. He doesn’t know what to say to Mike about the fire, but he understands why he’s standing back further than the rest. Bill has a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it for comfort. 

“Let’s get drunk, motherfuckers!” Richie jumps in, holding up a bottle of something with brown liquid sloshing around inside. 

He’s throwing back a swig and hands it off to Mike, who grabs it for his own sip, wiping his mouth when he’s done. 

Bill moves away to help with the fire. Richie’s doing some mad man dance around it, saying he’s trying to encourage the flames, while Eddie and Mike decide to arrange the folding chairs. 

When they’re through, Eddie sits on a long log, away from the direction of the smoke, and eventually Richie joins him. 

Once the fire burns high and hot, the rest of the guys settle around it in chairs. Ben starts passing around marshmallows. Stan hands out sticks to roast them. Eddie frowns at his and is about to complain just as Richie shoves the bottle at him.

“Here.”

He looks at it skeptically. Something in the air feels dangerous, with Richie’s hand extended towards him and his easy, encouraging smile. It’s dark now, but the flames reflected in Richie’s glasses make his face shine brightly back. It feels like a dare. Everything Richie does makes him feel like he has to impress him. Can’t let him down. 

Eddie finally decides he needs something to help swallow back the lump in his throat, so he takes the bottle, fights it down, and shakes with his tongue out from the taste. “That’s fuckin’ gross!” He shivers, then throws back another.

“Way to go, Eds! I thought I was gonna have to talk you into breaking the law. Look at this miscreant!” 

“Shut up,” he shakes his head. Staring him down, Richie’s smiling easily, thoroughly impressed but still challenging him, pushing just a little more. Giving him a knowing smirk, Eddie throws back one more. 

“Shit, dude. Save some for the rest of us,” Richie takes the bottle from his hand and passes it on to Ben. 

“Did you bring beer?” Bill asks.

Richie answers but Eddie stands to retrieve it. His face is burning, and he doesn’t think it’s from the heat. He grabs the blanket and beer from where they left it, passing the alcohol to Bill when he returns. 

He feels good when he sits back down next to Richie, and maybe he’s closer to him than before, but fuck it. He likes when Richie’s close. Draping the blanket over his legs, he checks his shoulder against Richie’s and pulls the bottle from his hand again. 

“Jesus Christ, Eddie. Slow down. I’m not going to hold your hair back for you when you start yakking in the trees.”

Eddie laughs at the image of him trying, but it doesn’t deter him from taking another drink. “Okay, okay. I’m done,” he gives it back. “For now.”

Someone has beef jerky and they pass it around between roasting marshmallows. 

“This was a good idea,” Richie sighs softly. “I’ve been making a list for the summer and this should have been on it.”

“What else is on your list?”

“Not much. Swimming at the quarry. Stargazing. Another trip back to the Clubhouse. It’s a work in progress.”

“Stargazing?” Eddie means to tease him, but with the way Richie is smiling back he doesn’t think it worked.

“Yeah. I’m gonna be across the country in a couple months. With all that light pollution I just want to commit it to memory.”

“Aww,” Eddie’s eyes feel heavy as he blinks back at him, “What a romantic.”

“Fuckin’ right I am,” he smiles, “But right now I gotta drain the main vein.” He jumps up and Eddie rolls his eyes as he walks off and away from the fire.

“Maybe for the Fourth?” Ben says.

“What’s that?” Eddie shakes himself from watching Richie walk to the tree line.

“I said, maybe I can talk Bev into coming back for the Fourth of July,” Ben answers.

“Oh, that would be great,” Eddie replies absently. 

_Would it be great?_

Maybe Richie would hook up with her again? Maybe that’s the least _great_ thing he can think of. But why the hell should he care if he does? Poor Bev, really. To be subjected to him all over again.

The hum of alcohol in his blood makes it difficult to pay attention as the guys talk about their plans for the rest of the summer. Stan’s working part time. Bill’s picking up more shifts from the bookstore. Mike’s basically locked in at the farm. Ben’s focusing his time on passing the driver’s exam. Eddie’s mom would never let him have a job because it would take him out of the house for too many hours a week. He’s glad Richie’s parents give him a decent enough allowance that he doesn’t need one either. At least he’ll be around this summer.

“If Richie can do it, anyone can,” Stan offers to Ben about passing the driver’s test. The others laugh.

Eddie laughs too, even though they know Richie’s practically a genius. Well, that’s an exaggeration, but he’s smart as hell and has never had to apply himself a day in his life. Eddie had to work for his grades, while Richie sailed by. He feels like he should be jealous, but really he’s proud of him for how damn smart he is, especially because he never rubs it in. It’s like he doesn’t even realize he could do anything.

When he comes back he’s shivering, “Fuck, my nips are poppin’! Let me in, Eds.”

“Don’t call-”

“Let me in, _Eddie,"_ Richie corrects.

Eddie lifts the blanket and Richie’s legs are next to his. Their knees bump together and Eddie’s heart begins to beat faster. They really don’t need the blanket, Richie was right, but the extra weight feels nice. Richie’s hands are balled up under it and Eddie wonders if he could do it. If he could just grab his hand, right there in front of them all, and help warm them up.

The alcohol has definitely hit him, making him feel relaxed and calm. Giving him courage, and resolutely not giving a shit. Without thinking more on it, he tucks his left hand under, and tells himself, _Do it. You can do it._

And then he does.

He’s reaching out and grabbing Richie’s hand under the blanket, and watching the guys, waiting for them to call him on it, even though he knows they can’t see it under the blanket. 

Nothing happens. No one calls him out. Richie doesn’t recoil.

His hand isn’t as cold as he was expecting. Richie moves it enough to lace their fingers together, and Eddie finally relaxes.

Bill’s laughing hard at something Stan said. Ben’s adjusting the fire. Mike is passing around more beef jerky, and Richie is holding his hand while Eddie’s heart is trying to pound it’s way out of his chest. 

It feels like hours they spend there, watching the soothing flames lick towards the sky and crack violently in protest when the logs break down. Richie holds his hand through most of it, only giving it up when they share another drink. But when the bottle’s back on the ground they find each other's hand again, like neither one wants to stop.

It shouldn’t feel so intimate. It’s hardly anything compared to what else they’ve done. Richie’s seen his dick, stroked him off, made him come, for Christ’s sake. But holding his hand under the shield of that blanket feels like the most precious moment they’ve shared yet.

Richie leans in, “Wanna come with me?”

“Sure,” he replies without thinking. “Wait. Where we goin’?”

Dropping Eddie’s hand, Richie stands without answering. Eddie follows.

“We’ll be right back. I think I have more beer in the car,” Richie says to the group, clutching the blanket.

Eddie knows that he doesn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. He just follows him as he walks far from the fire and toward a cleared hill. It takes a while to get there, and it’s cold being away from the flames. 

“This is good,” Richie says, spreading the blanket on the ground. Then he sits in the middle of it. “Come on, Spagheds,” Richie pulls at his arm, forcing him to sit.

They lie back, each wrapping a side of the blanket around them as they crowd together in the center to maintain the warmth they had near the fire. 

When Eddie looks at the sky, finally noticing the speckling of stars glittering above, he realizes what they’re doing. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Richie agrees.

Eddie notices he’s still holding his hand. “Well, I guess you get to check stargazing off your list.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, face turned to Eddie.

Eddie turns to him smiling easily.

They’d been good. They’d been so damn good the last few weeks. Richie hadn’t pushed him. Eddie hadn’t asked. But now it burns in his chest how much he wants it. Staring back at Richie, with his too long hair and his full lips and his earnest smile, Eddie never wanted to kiss someone so fucking badly before.

Richie told him he didn’t regret it and it’s all Eddie’s been able to cling to for weeks.

Richie brings their joined hands up to his mouth and kisses the back of Eddie’s. Then he turns to lie properly on his back. With his free hand, he points, “Look! The Big Dipper!”

Shifting to look back at the sky again, Eddie teases, “Too easy. What else ya got, Trashmouth?”

Eddie recognizes an attempt at a naturalist's voice that Richie can never quite find the right accent for, _“Well, you see Edward, in this quadrant of space we happen to be fortunate, very fortunate indeed. The, uh, Canis… uh… Major-ass is debuting her appearance, more colloquially known, of course, as one Sonia Kaspbrak.”_

“You fucking dick,” Eddie pulls his hand away from Richie, then instead makes a move to tickle him. Sitting up and pushing into him, grasping at his ribs “Asshole!” He declares over Richie’s laughter. 

“Stop! Stop! Okay, okay, you win!”

He relents. They both smile, letting out short laughs before they settle back against the ground, cuddling back into their cocoon, looking up into the black abyss of the night’s sky.

Eddie knows he’s still drunk and when he hears himself ask, “Do you think about it?”

“Eddie,” Richie’s voice sounds like a warning, “I don’t want to go back to the guys with a bloody nose.”

“I’m not gonna hit you! I just wanna know.”

“I remember when that question used to be about the trauma of being attacked by a murderous clown. Simpler times,” Richie sighs. “Yeah, I do,” he answers quietly.

Eddie finds Richie’s hand and holds onto it again. “Does it ever scare you?”

“No,” Richie says simply. “It was fun. I had fun. I mean, until you almost broke my nose. I try not to think about the rest. Just- Don’t think about the rest.” He is quiet a moment before whispering back, “Does it scare you when you think about it?”

“All the fucking time,” he doesn’t mean to be so honest but he can’t help it. Maybe Richie knows what he’s going through. Maybe Richie’s the like him.

Richie leans up immediately and Eddie watches, wide eyed, as his face hovers over his, “Eddie. you don’t have to be afraid of me. I _promise,_ I won’t _ever_ do that to you again.” It sounds like his heart is breaking and it makes Eddie’s stomach sink. “I am _so_ fuckin’ sorry I did that to you, Eds.”

Hurrying, he leans up, propping himself on his elbow, face too close to Richie’s, and breathes, “No, not of _you,_ Richie. Fuck. You know, of what we _did._ Of doing it at all. I feel like everyone can tell. That they look at me and they see- that they see a-”

“Don’t say it. I know what you mean.” Richie lies back down, frowning. “Maybe you need to get laid? With a girl, I mean. I’m sure Bianca-”

Eddie laughs, cutting Richie off. He doesn’t want Bianca or any of the other fucking girls. He wants Richie, and that’s the whole fucking problem.

He leans over and kisses him. Not forceful or demanding. Just a sweet press of lips, until Richie presses back, but Eddie pulls away nearly as quickly as he attacked.

“Uh- what was that for?” Richie asks.

“I’m not scared of _you,_ dipshit,” Eddie lies back down, and stares at the sky.

“Okay,” Richie looks frozen to his spot. 

“Did fucking Bev actually help?” 

“Sort of. I don’t think it bothers me the same way as you, though. I don’t think about it.” Richie sighs, “You know, I love Bev. I mean, like a friend. But I like kissing you too. It feels-” he pauses, “Different. Easier. A million times _harder-”_ he laughs morosely, rubbing his hand over his face. He adds, “This is why I don’t think about it, Eddie.” He tilts his head away, “I know you’re going through some shit, I probably only make it worse, but you can talk to me about it if you want.”

“Okay,” Eddie sighs. And he wants to ask him. He’s dying to know. The thought has been festering for weeks and he _needs_ to know- “Richie, are you gay?”

“I don’t mean about _me!_ I mean, talk about _you!_ Jesus Christ. Are _you_ gay, Eddie? I’ve had sex with women!”

“Woman,” Eddie corrects.

“Whatever! Still more than you!”

Ignoring him, Eddie asks the other question that’s been weighing him down, “If she comes back for the Fourth are you going to sleep with her again?”

Richie laughs quietly, “You jealous?”

And _yeah,_ he _is._

And he’s about to admit as much when Richie adds, “No, we’re not going to fuck. It was a- a- one time, poppin’ my cherry graduation gift. _One_ time.”

“Graduation lay?” Eddie scoffs, “Like she’d fuck you just because of that?”

“Yeah that and she thinks I’m hot. She told me _multiple_ times, dickwad.”

“She really said that?” 

“Would I lie to you?”

“About that? Yeah, dude. Well, does she _like_ you? I thought she liked Bill.”

“Eddie,” Richie smiles, turning closer to him, “I think you _are_ jealous.”

“Fuck off.”

“Fuck off? Yeah, I’ll fuck off. Just not with Bev. Any suggestions, Ed?” He waggles his eyebrows.

Eddie pushes him, laughing. Richie grabs his arm and they scrapple a little before settling down. Richie doesn’t let go of his arm, though. Instead his hand slides down, fingers interlocking like that’s where they belong now. And Richie is smiling at him again. With his free hand he points to the sky. This time he tells him the name of an actual constellation, and Eddie feels warm, being tucked in close to him under the cool night sky.

They lie there long enough for Eddie’s buzz to fade. He stands, pulling Richie back to the fire. They’ve been gone too long and he doesn’t know what they’ll tell the others. And sure enough when they get back Mike asks if they got lost and Richie makes a joke about finding Eddie’s mom in the woods. Eddie kicks at him for that, but at least it deflects from the question.

When the fire dies down leaving the embers to a glow, they pack up. Richie drops Eddie off at his house. He steps out of his jeans and knows he should remove the smoke saturated sweatshirt of Richie’s, but instead he curls it around himself and falls asleep as soon as his head hits his pillow.

**Richie**

“Hey, New Kid,” Bev winks at Ben. “I’m gonna tag along with Richie for this one, okay? Meet you out there?” 

“Yeah, sure thing,” Ben smiles.

Richie eyes her suspiciously as she grabs the front passenger door. Eddie and Stan elbow their way into the back. Situating themselves inside, Eddie’s the only one to fumble around swearing as he latches the seatbelt.

Bev holds out a cassette tape which Richie grabs skeptically.

“What’s this?” He asks, definitely not trusting her as he checks it over.

The only thing she’s offering in return is a shit eating grin and an attempt at an innocent shrug, but her eyes are saying, _Nothing good._ Lifting her eyebrows, she finally says, “It’s a present.”

He starts his car, “Better be somethin’ good, Marsh.”

“Start with A first.”

Richie checks to make sure it’ll play Side A as he slides it in, clicking into place, and hitting play.

“You made him a mixed tape?” Eddie frowns from the back.

“Uh huh,” her voice is both smug and teasing, and Richie knows he’s in for it.

As the music starts, Richie recognizes the song immediately. “Oh, fuck you, Bev.”

_I made it through the wilderness_

_Somehow I made it through_

_Didn't know how lost I was_

_Until I found you_

Eddie begins to ask, “What is-” But he’s interrupted by Stan, laughing like an idiot.

Bev leans in to whisper, “I thought I’d give you something to remember our time together.” 

“You’re a dick,” Richie shakes his head as the chorus starts.

_Like a virgin_

_Touched for the very first time_

_Like a virgin_

_When your heart beats_

_Next to mine_

“Oh,” Eddie says from the back seat.

“Fuck you, I’m fast forwarding,” Richie reaches his hand out and he’s surprised that Bev allows it. He regrets it immediately when he hits play in the middle of the next song, however.

  
  
_Don't tell me it's not worth tryin' for_

_You can't tell me it's not worth dyin' for_

_You know it's true_

_Everything I do_

_I do it for you_

“You’re a dick _and_ an asshole,” Richie amends, closing his eyes.

This time when he reaches his hand to fast forward again, Bev swats it away. “You have to let some of them play, Rich!”

“Yeah, Richie,” Stan laughs in the back.

Eddie pouts, “I kind of like this one.”

_Look into your heart_

_You will find_

_There's nothin' there to hide_

_Take me as I am_

_Take my life_

_I would give it all_

_I would sacrifice_

“What the hell, Eddie?” Richie laughs.

“It was in Robin Hood, fucknut! Robin Hood was good. Hans Gruber was in it!”

“Robin Hood was _not_ good, but fine. Because Eddie has a boner for Hans Gruber, we’ll listen to it,” Richie shakes his head, finally putting the car into gear, he begins driving. 

He understands what Bev’s doing and honestly he can admit it’s a good joke. He can appreciate the craftsmanship. 

But she’s still a dick. 

The plan is to meet the rest of the guys near the firework stand just outside of town. Mike’s grandfather is letting them go to the edge of his property to set them off for the Fourth of July which Richie has added to his list. He’s determined to have the best Fourth, blowing shit up with his best friends. 

Despite Richie’s protestation of the song, everyone in the car, reluctantly including himself, ends up belting out the ballad. 

Bev extends her arm to Richie, _“Yeah, I would fight for you. I lie for you. Walk the wire for you. Yeah, I'd die for you-”_

Those words have meaning between them, between all of them really, but he’s glaring at her for it. He still loves the shit out of her, maybe even a little more now for this stunt, but he doesn’t have to be happy about it.

_You know it’s true_

_Everything I do_

_I do it for you_

“Finally!” He’s relieved when it’s over.

Bev’s chuckling in the front seat.

“What the fuck, Bev? I think I’m getting the theme of this little tape.” Richie asks, “What’s next?” 

She’s shrugging and smirking, so Richie fast forwards it a little until she hits his hand away and pushes play.

_For the first time in history_

_It's gonna start raining men_

Richie glares at his radio, “What the hell is-”

_It's raining men, hallelujah, it's raining men, amen_

_I'm gonna go out to run and let myself get_

_Absolutely soaking wet_

“Okay!” Richie ejects the tape. _“Fuck you,_ Marsh. Fuck you and the worst taste in music I've ever heard."

She’s laughing hard and wrangling the tape out of his hand, “No, come on. You’ll like the other side, I promise.”

Stan is laughing along with her, “Bev you have impeccable taste. Excellent job of pissing Richie off. Really. Just a great job all around. A-plus!” He gives her a thumbs up.

“Thank you, Stan,” she smiles. She puts in Side B, rewinds it to make sure it’s at the beginning, then pushes play.

Richie recognizes the song _Nancy Boy_ immediately.

_Alcoholic kind of mood_

_Lose my clothes_

_Lose my lube_

_Cruising for a piece of fun_

_Looking out for number one_

“What is it?” Eddie asks, eyes lit up with mirth.

Richie points at Bev while keeping his eyes on the road, “You’re still an asshole, but yeah, this one’s good.”

_Kind of buzz that lasts for days_

_Had some help from insect ways_

_Comes across all shy and coy_

_Just another nancy boy_

Bev and Richie are the only ones singing along. He hopes like hell that Eddie and Stan aren’t catching the lyrics. It doesn’t stop him from singing, but it would be awkward if they called out what she’s doing.

_Does his makeup in his room_

_Douse himself with cheap perfume_

_Eyeholes in a paper bag_

_Greatest lay I ever had_

_Kind of guy who mates for life_

_Gotta help him find a wife_

_We're a couple_

_When our bodies double_

Eddie keeps asking, “What is it? Who is this?”

“It’s Placebo,” Bev finally offers and Richie’s grateful she doesn’t say the title.

“Oh,” Eddie slumps back, shrugging his shoulders next to Stan.

Richie can tell they’re waiting for this one to be over, but he’s enjoying the moment, singing off key with Bev in his car.

When the song ends, he asks, “How much more am I going to hate you by the time this is done?”

“Only a little,” she runs her hands through her hair when the next song plays.

_Street's like a jungle_

_So call the police_

_Following the herd_

_Down to Greece (on holiday)_

Richie shakes his head. Stan and Eddie _have_ to catch the theme. The overwhelming queerness of the mix that Bev is taunting him with. He’s about to fast forward again, when Eddie interrupts.

“Stop! I know this one. I love this song.”

Richie furrows his brow, _“What?”_

“Blur,” Eddie shrugs, “It’s good.”

“Your mom lets you listen to this?” Bev asks skeptically.

“Sue me, it’s on the radio all the fuckin’ time!” Eddie snaps.

It’s really not, but Richie doesn’t say that.

_Love in the Nineties, is paranoid_

_On sunny beaches take your chances_

_Looking for_

_Girls who are boys_

_Who like boys to be girls_

_Who do boys like they're girls_

_Who do girls like they're boys_

_Always should be someone, you really love_

“Kinky boy, Eds,” Richie looks through the rearview mirror, smiling at him. Eddie meets his eye and he can tell he’s blushing. It makes his heart skip and his stomach jump, so he winks back at him. Richie doesn’t know if he makes it better or worse, because now Eddie is looking out the window. 

Richie cranks up the volume so they can all sing and the last line burns in his head over and over like a mantra he’ll never be able to shake.

_Always should be someone to really love_

He shakes his head again, turning to Bev, “Anymore?” 

“One more,” she replies. “I think it really captures the essence of your future love life.”

“Bev-” he warns, worrying for the first time that maybe she’s picked something that they can’t brush off as a joke.

But she reaches out and pats his leg. A small comfort and he’s choosing to trust her, so he lets the last song play out.

He recognizes it and laughs in relief, “You really are a fucking dick, you know that?” But he’s laughing heartily at her choice.

“I try,” she smiles innocently, accepting it as a compliment.

_Relax, don't do it_

_When you want to go to it_

_Relax, don't do it_

_When you want to come_

“I know this one, but what’s it about?” Eddie asks.

“Oh my sweet, innocent little Eddie Bear,” Richie teases.

Stan laughs and Eddie turns to him, _“You_ know what it’s about?”

“Masturbating,” Stan offers succinctly. 

“Jerkin’ the gherkin,” Richie adds, “Choking the chicken. Spanking the monkey. You know, beating your meat-”

“Jesus, okay!” Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Burping the worm,” Richie continues.

“Stop!” Eddie insists.

“Jacking off,” Stan adds.

“Stan! Valid entry,” Richie smiles, “What about- liquidating some inventory?”

“Five finger shuffle?” Stan offers.

“Another great one from Stan-the-Man!” Richie cheers.

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie orders. “Bev, turn the music up.” 

She does. Richie nods along as they all sing and by the time they pull up to the firework stand, they’re laughing, yelling the words as loud as they can, surely annoying anyone they pass along the way.

Turning his car off, they pile out and meet up with Ben, Bill, and Mike, already in the shed of a building looking through fireworks. Richie follows Eddie and listens to him complain about the lack of safety piling hundreds of pyrotechnics in one location during the hottest month of year. It could start everything on fire, cause a massive explosion, enough to toast anyone within some kind of radius- Richie isn’t sure, he’s not really paying attention. 

He’s just smiling dumbly at Eddie, loving every second of his paranoid rant.

“We shouldn’t even be in here! The whole thing could go up at any time!”

“You’re adorable when you’re psychotic,” Richie smiles wistfully. And fuck, it’s supposed to be a joke but Eddie’s looking at him like he sees right through him.

“That tape Bev made-” Eddie begins to ask.

He changed the subject to one Richie isn’t prepared for which is unfair, so Richie grabs a basket and starts loading it up with roman candles to avoid looking at Eddie. “Yeah. She’s in love with me, what can I say?”

“Is she?” Eddie’s voice is so quiet. There’s too much sincerity in it for him to ignore.

Richie looks at him. His heart is pounding and he’s not sure why. _“No,_ don’t be stupid. Why do you care anyway?” It’s more of a hope when he asks. Eddie kissed him the last time they were at Mike’s and if he’s asking about Bev maybe he-

“Richie,” he says his name so pained, but doesn’t offer anything more.

“Eddie, we’re _just_ friends. I promise.” The thumping in his chest won’t stop and even as he says it he wonders if he’s not talking about Bev at all.

Then, like the fucking mind reader he is, Eddie asks the absolute worst thing he can, “Like _us?”_

Richie’s mouth hangs open at the skill in which he can destroy him. He doesn’t know what the hell Eddie expects from him in a shack outside of town, crammed with people and fireworks, and Richie feels like he’s about to set off the whole joint.

They have less than two months before they all leave. Fucking weeks, and Eddie’s acting like a jilted lover because Bev made him a mixed tape with a single love song and the rest queer ballads. Of course Eddie would focus on Bryan Adams and gloss completely over _Nancy Boy._

“I don’t know how to answer that,” Richie replies honestly. _We’re just friends too, right?_ He wants to ask. Just like he and Bev? Isn’t that what Eddie _wants_ to hear? But Eddie starts to turn away dejected, so Richie grabs his arm and hurries to add carefully, _“Not_ like us. There’s no one like _us,_ Eds _._ ”

Eddie leans into him, so it must assuage whatever he’s battling. He nods in return, then someone is bumping into them both. 

Richie turns around to Mike telling him, “Get the big shit! We’re gonna have the best show around!”

“I can’t afford the ‘big shit.’ Make Billy Warbucks pay for that. He’s got the dough,” when he turns back he sees Eddie’s gone, off talking to Stan.

Taking a deep breath, Richie looks around, loading his basket, hoping things aren’t going to be weird between them the rest of the evening.

Bev joins Ben, Bill, and Mike on the way out to the farm.

Richie is left dancing between the weird tension he and Eddie created, while Stan so talently rides both shotgun _and_ third wheel. 

Ejecting the tape, Richie opts for the radio as they drive.

He can feel Stan staring him over intently before he speaks, “You didn’t _really,_ though, right?”

Exhaling, Richie glares at Eddie through the rearview mirror. He knows what Stan’s asking and he knows Eddie told him something.

Lifting his hands in defense, Eddie says, “He was there too, man! Heard the same thing I did.”

“There’s no way. There’s no way in hell that Bev would have sex with _you,”_ Stan insists.

He doesn’t even feel insulted, instead, he wants to end the conversation before being forced to relive one of the biggest embarrassments of his life. “You’re right. It was all an elaborate hoax. Can we move on now?” Richie replies.

“Ugh. Why _you_?” Stan asks.

And fuck, Richie wonders the same damn thing. “I’m not gonna talk about it! Ask _her_ if you wanna know so damn bad.”

“Look at you, suddenly mute. I can’t believe you aren’t going to share the details. Normally you wouldn’t shut up about it,” Stan teases. “Why aren’t you going to sleep with her again?”

Richie’s frustrated at that because Eddie _definitely_ told Stan that part. “Because! We’re just friends!”

“Friends don’t give each other orgasms,” Stan says glibly. 

Richie is glaring out the windshield, knowing his face, and Eddie’s too, are probably bright red. Knowing that he and Eddie walked that tightrope of a fine line weeks ago and nothing in his rationalization can come up with a proper excuse for it. Except he and Bev _were_ just friends and they _did_ just have sex, but he’s not going to admit that no orgasms were shared. 

“Beep-beep, Stan,” Richie tries instead.

“What? _You_ can’t ‘beep-beep’ _me.”_ He scoffs.

“Well, what-the-fuck-ever. I’m done talking about it,” Richie insists. “Why the hell do either of you even care?” 

“It’s just, you know we’ve all been watching the Bill-Bev-Ben show for so long. And you’re telling me _Richie_ comes out of nowhere and sweeps her off her feet?”

He laughs at that, “No! It’s not like that at all. You want the truth? Fine. She felt bad for me, okay? She knew I was sad from the dance and she wanted to cheer me up. Then we got drunk and it happened because she knew I was a virgin. A-an-and she thinks I’m hot. It was purely a pity fuck. I’m sure she’ll tell you the same thing, dick. And speaking of the Bill-Bev-Ben show, _they_ don’t know about it, so I’d appreciate it if you could keep it to yourselves.”

“Bizarro-Richie,” Stan mutters to Eddie.

“That’s exactly what I said!” Eddie smiles back.

Richie shakes his head but he gets no relief as Stan is already asking, “Why were you sad about the dance?”

“Because Eddie’s mom wouldn’t go with me. I mean, denying our love after all these years? A man has his limits.” Richie’s waiting for Stan to ask another question, but he doesn’t. 

Richie can’t look back at Eddie. The drive is tense and he’s not feeling like breaking the mood with another joke. Eddie and Stan carry the conversation until they make it to Mike’s.

When they get there they climb from the car, grabbing their fireworks, they begin to make an inventory of what everyone has. In the open air, Richie feels his bad mood start to dissipate. He’s still determined to have the best fucking Fourth of July he can, so he pushes aside the conversation from before, dropping it from his mind. 

The Losers arrange the explosives in a nice order, saving the biggest and best for last, then they search for something to do until the sun sets. Stan smiles at Richie when he brings up Truth or Dare. Richie flips him off but everyone else insists they’re too old for that anyway.

They grill and they eat and they joke and laugh and Richie’s heart is swelling from all of it. He wishes he had his mom’s camera with him. Something to remember the day by. He looks down at his hand and traces the faint scar in his palm. It’s the one thing that will forever tie them together. The origin behind it is sinister, but Richie loves what it’s come to represent. 

The _Losers._ His friends. The people he loves most. 

And they barely have two months together before it all changes.

“Hey!” Richie says to the group, “In August, before we leave, there’s a concert. I’m not talking about just a concert, I’m talking fucking Woodstock, okay?”

“That’s in New York,” Ben says.

“You have a van, Ben! It would fit us all!”

“Who’s gonna be there?” Bev asks.

“Nine Inch Nails, Bev, huh? Aerosmith, Blind Melon, fuckin’ Metallica,” Richie answers.

“No way can I afford that,” Mike says.

“You don’t have to! That’s the beauty of it. We’ll crash it. There’s bound to be a way in somehow! And if there isn’t then we can party outside the gates or something. The road trip will still be worth it.”

“Richie, that has to be like four hours away,” Eddie crosses his arms.

“Come on, guys!” Richie begs. “It’ll be one last big thing we can all do together. Please? I’ll be off to school the week after. Come on!”

“Alright, I’m in,” Bill smiles easily. 

Hopping over, Richie pats Bill on the back, “Yes! Who else? Come on, Bev!”

Giving him a wry smile she says, “Fine, Tozier. Wore me down again.”

“Me too,” Mike adds, “Sounds fun.”

“Okay,” Ben smiles, “Yeah.”

“Great, we got the transportation!” Richie smiles, “Now we need parental guidance. Stan? Eddie? What do you say? We’re gonna need some chaperones.”

“Yeah, actually, that sounds like one last good memory before the summer is over. Who would have thought Richie could actually have a good idea?” Stan teases.

They all laugh except Eddie, who’s frowning.

“My mom is never gonna let me go. Not so close to moving. She’s not going to let me out of her sight that whole week.”

“I will talk to her. I’ll convince her or something. You have to come,” Richie says softly. “I will kidnap you myself if I have to.”

Eddie looks up to him, those big brown eyes trusting him, and it makes Richie’s stomach jump. “Okay, Richie,” he says.

Richie cheers and shoots a fist in the air, “You are my favorite Losers. Did you know that?”

They talk about the concert and about the potential massive failure it will be if they can’t find a way in, but they don’t mind. It’s one last adventure for them all, and it’ll be the perfect way to end the summer.

When the sun starts to drop low, Richie reaches for a few fireworks. He gives a glowing punk stick to Bill, Bev, Eddie, holding onto the last one for himself. 

“Come ‘ere, guys,” he gestures, and runs, putting in a good space between the rest of the fireworks. 

“What the hell?” Eddie asks, gripping his punk at a safe distance as they all follow. 

Richie smiles wide and hands each of them a roman candle. 

“Don’t we need, like, a pipe or something to put it in?” Eddie asks.

“Oh, I got a pipe for you, Eddie,” Richie teases.

But before Eddie can tell him to fuck off, Richie is lighting his roman candle, gripping it in his hand tight, and running away. The first one goes off, a loud crack of an explosion with a fireball shooting out and smoke trailing behind, landing right near Eddie. 

“You motherfucker!” Eddie screams back at him.

“Oh, so you did catch me at your house last night?” Richie laughs, yelling back, “I got more where that came from, Eddie!”

Bev is laughing and lighting her own now, running far enough away to not cause damage, then aims back to Richie.

It lands next to his feet, and he screams with laughter, “Bev Marsh is in the game!”

His second one is towards her. 

“Oh, fuck this,” Eddie lights his own, aiming directly for Richie. 

The field is filled with smoke, crackling light firing between them, and howls of laughter. Richie feels like he’s soaring. 

“Double-teaming me? You assholes!” Richie yells as fireballs are shooting around him. Hopping on his feet, trying to point back at Eddie or Bev. “Bill! Save me!” 

“N-no! I’m out! I’m out!” Bill yells, but there’s laughter in his voice as he’s watching the fight unfold.

When Richie’s out of ammo, he runs to Bill. “Get away! Get away,” he laughs as one of Eddie’s fireballs reach too near. Richie steals the firework from his hand and lights it on fire between blasts from Bev and Eddie.

Bev is the next to run out so he focuses his effort on Eddie, and he’s chasing him down and away from the rest of the gang as Eddie’s screaming for him to stop, “You’re a motherfucking asshole, Richie. I swear to fucking god I’m gonna get you back!”

When Richie’s finally out, his hand is hot from holding the stick, but his eyes are bright and he’s laughing. “Come at me, Eddie! I’m right here.”

Eddie does. He turns and runs directly at Richie, who lets out a shriek and runs away, even further from the group. But Eddie’s fast. He catches up. He jumps, latching onto his back and they topple over, crashing to the ground. 

“You’re fucking insane! We could have lost our fingers! You can bleed out from a bad enough wound on your hand, asshole. We could have been burned. What if your hair caught on fire?” Richie rolls onto his back, but Eddie stays on top of him, lecturing, “Do you know how fucking stupid that was?”

Smiling wide enough to show his teeth, Richie says, “You didn’t have to do it, Eddie. Bill didn’t.”

“I’m not a pussy,” Eddie finally smiles back at him.

And Richie’s noticing now that Eddie’s weight is fully on top of him. “You had fun.” 

“That doesn’t mean I liked it!”

“You loved it,” Richie knows. He knows the way Eddie’s looking at him with his chest heaving all out of breath. He doesn’t run and tackle like someone with asthma. Eddie’s not fragile and Richie likes to be the one to remind him.

Eddie’s looking down at him with his eyes so bright. They’re far from the rest of the guys but hear an exploding boom go off before the crack in the sky illuminates bright white embers raining down from above. Eddie turns to look up, watching as another goes off, and another.

Richie tries not to stare at the long line of his neck he wants to kiss. Their chests are pressed together, and Richie is sweating from the heat and the excursion of running. He’s afraid to move. Afraid to remind Eddie that he’s lying on him. It’s like he belongs and Richie’s terrified of scaring him off.

Eddie turns his head back to face Richie and kisses him for a second time on Mike’s property. 

But it’s not a peck this time. Eddie’s hands are roaming through Richie’s hair and his tongue is in his mouth, and fuck, Eddie’s so damn good at kissing now. Richie pushes back into him, thinking, _This could be it- this could be the very last time._ So he makes it good. Sliding his tongue in how he knows Eddie likes. Richie’s hand is against his chest and his thumb finds the nub of his nipple over Eddie’s shirt, teasing it until he’s moaning into Richie’s mouth. 

It’s enough for Eddie to pull away, but only to say, “Someone could see.”

And damn him, he’s right. But in the moment Richie replies, “I don’t care.” He pulls Eddie back down and kisses him again because this _can’t_ be the last time.

They’d been flirting around each other for weeks, years in Richie’s case. Eddie wants him, he _knows_ it, and with the fireworks around them he can’t stop himself. He is so fucking in love with him, and fuck it, they’ll all be gone soon anyway. Who gives a shit if they get caught by their friends?

Bev doesn’t care, the others might not either.

Eddie turns himself away, breathing heavily. “Richie,” it’s devastatingly soft.

He closes his eyes, taking a moment to gather himself and turn back into the _Richie_ the Losers know. Eddie stands, pulling the heat from his body away, but he offers his hand and pulls him up. 

Richie jumps to his feet and says with a wink, “You can tackle me anyday, baby.”

“Shut up,” Eddie smiles.

“No, I mean it,” Richie wraps his arm around Eddie’s shoulder, making sure to put on a show. Anything he can do to touch as much of Eddie as possible. “You’re my favorite person to play tonsil hockey with, and I’m game _any_ time.”

He can tell Eddie is rolling his eyes.

They make it back to the guys who are cheering as Bill lights off another one with Mike nearby. Richie’s arm is still draped heavily across Eddie’s shoulders. He wishes they had a way to hold hands again. No blanket to hide behind this time. 

“You’re missing it! Come ‘ere,” Bev waves them over.

Richie turns steering them in her direction. She’s sitting on a blanket on the ground with Ben and Stan laying next to her. She pulls at Richie’s hand until he detangles himself from Eddie and they both lay on the ground on the other side of her.

Positioning himself as inconspicuously close to Eddie as he can, he feels the warmth of him along his side where they’re pressed together. 

More than anything he wants to be kissing him again. He’s surprised Eddie did it at all, but he _did_ , so Richie hopes that means he’s finally okay with it. He’s obviously been jealous since Bev’s been back and Richie doesn’t really want to use that to fuck with Eddie, but he seems to be fucked by it all on his own anyway.

He wishes he could tell him she doesn’t mean anything, not in _that_ way. Not in the way that Eddie does. Because he’s been consumed by Eddie alone for years and nothing can change that. He's tried. 

So, maybe Eddie’s getting used to it. They’ve kissed twice since he fucked up. Despite Eddie saying he wouldn’t hit him again, Richie knows not to push things further. If Eddie’s comfortable kissing him, Richie will never turn him away. Only, he feels the impending weight of the end of summer, days passing too quickly, counting down the few weeks left. Richie worries it’ll never be enough time.

He moves his hand between them, trying to figure out what part of Eddie he’s touching, when he recognizes his hand. He grabs it, tucked between their bodies in the dark, it’s hardly visible, and it’s the only thing that makes him feel okay.

With each bright explosion in the sky, Richie’s heart aches a little more with how much he wants to kiss him. With how angry he is at how hard it has to be. That they need to hide their hands so no one will know. 

Richie still doesn’t know why Eddie _wants_ to kiss him, he just knows to be there every single time he does.

Eddie turns to face him, and Richie mirrors it, thumb absently stroking at his hand.

Eddie whispers, “Why were you sad at the dance?”

Richie’s breath gets caught in his throat. He doesn’t want to tell him the truth, doesn’t want to admit it, but Eddie kissed him, and is holding his hand in front of them all, so maybe he can be a little brave too.

Another firework explodes up high, illuminating Eddie’s face. Richie whispers, “You _know,_ don’t you?”

Eddie shrugs, “Maybe. I think.”

Richie squeezes his hand and says, “The _person_ I wanted to go with already had a date.” 

“Does Bev know about-?”

Richie thinks he’s going to say ‘ _us’_ but Eddie lets the question hang _._

“No,” Richie whispers back quickly. “I promised I’d never tell anyone, Eds.”

Eddie squeezes his hand back, “Thanks, Rich.”

“Anything for my Spagheds,” he teases.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst,” Eddie sighs.

“Nah, you love me.” 

Richie wonders if he imagines the slight squeeze of his hand as he says it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Bev's Mixed Tape!](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLnAjBQAstdJ7tl-hqPHH-VYU-Uvyw9u6v) Second playlist for the songs in this fic.
> 
> Like a Virgin - Madonna  
> Everything I Do (I Do It For You) - Bryan Adams  
> It's Raining Men - The Weather Girls  
> Nancy Boy - Placebo  
> Girls and Boys - Blur  
> Relax (Don't Do It) - Frankie Goes to Hollywood
> 
> Placebo's Nancy Boy has been the unofficial theme song for this entire fic. Also, if you've never seen the music video for Relax (which was banned from MTV and BBC for "featuring the band members accosted by buff leathermen, a glamorous drag queen, and an obese admirer dressed up as a Roman emperor")... it's a trip!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLnAjBQAstdJ6sGmSwcrBRZwHUgzFJdKxE) for the songs in this fic.
> 
> [Fanart for this chapter](https://candle-jill.tumblr.com/post/625634615028301824/reddie-fanart-for-chapter-6-of-my-fic-wicked)

**Eddie**

“You’re wearing sunscreen, right? I’m not rubbin’ aloe vera all over you if you’re gonna get fried today like a total dumbass.” Eddie watches as Richie ignores him and runs hollering into the water.

“Come on in, Eddie! The water is like soup!”

Eddie walks in slowly after him, “That’s gross. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s hot, idiot.”

The mid-July heat has everyone in town crazy. Richie could cross it off his list a thousand times over, because the Losers sneak off to the quarry as often as they can for a reprieve from the hot weather. But it seems like today even the water is too warm to really cool them down.

By the time Eddie makes it out to him, Richie places his hands on his shoulders and looks into his eyes. In a serious voice, Richie asks, “Give it to me straight, Eds. I’m laying out, nearly dyin’ from heat stroke, and the only help in the world is you takin’ off all my clothes, givin’ me a nice cool ice bath. You wouldn’t do that for me? Your best friend in the whole world?”

Eddie’s eyes glance down at Richie’s chest, fully exposed. There’s too much skin and it’s easy to imagine him laid out in a bath with only Eddie to wait on him. Feeling bold, he says, “Sounds more like givin’ it to you _gay_ than givin’ it to you straight, Rich. Is that really what you’re asking for?”

Richie laughs nervously at that, removing his hands from Eddie’s shoulders, he sinks himself lower into the water. Eddie copies him until everything below their chin is under.

“What if I say yes?” Richie asks, almost too quietly, like he's afraid of Eddie actually hearing him. 

“I’d wait for the punchline.” Eddie’s hands reach out beneath the water and settle on Richie’s hips.

He inhales deeply and Eddie smiles watching his breath hitch. “What are you-” Richie starts to ask but then he leans back, “Is this Gay Chicken?”

“Yeah. You’re losing,” Eddie admits with a smile.

“I won the last time and all I got was a black eye. Not the best incentive to participate in Round Two.”

Eddie does feel bad about that. But he ignores it, “I can stop if you-”

“No!” Richie interrupts, holding Eddie’s hands in place under the water. “So, how exactly do we play Gay Chicken in _public_ minutes before our friends show up?”

Eddie’s stomach jumps as he leans in and brushes his lips against Richies to say, “I want to kiss you right now.”

“Fuck, Eds,” Richie sighs. “Since when did that become a thing you could just stay to me?”

“Gay Chicken, remember? I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“So, I can do this-” Richie licks his lips then goes to the shell of Eddie’s ear, whispering, “I want your dick so far down my throat, but my only concern is how you’ll be inside me so deep me I won’t be able to taste your jizz when I make you come.”

Eddie pulls away to meet Richie’s eyes, a little shocked by what he said, because obviously he’s only messing with him and waiting to laugh at Eddie’s reaction. Only Eddie finds he’s serious. His eyes look hungry and sincere.

Until they begin to flash in panic. 

Richie stands up a little in the water, exposing himself to the air, “Does that mean I win?”

Eddie's heart is pounding hard and he pushes closer, moving his hands out of the water, wrapping around Richie’s neck. “Get lower so no one can see,” he demands. Eddie wraps his legs around Richie’s waist. Richie grips him automatically, holding him up, keeping him tight against his body.

Eddie doesn’t give him a chance to say anything more before pushing their lips together. It's the first time they've kissed since the Fourth. Eddie knows they shouldn’t be doing it, but Richie's messy hair and bare chest are on display in front of him and he doesn't know how to resist anymore. With his spit slicked lips, Eddie gives in, and he feels a little like it's owed to him by whatever gods or aliens have power over Derry. 

It was his fault that Richie got away on the Fourth, even though all he wanted was to keep him trapped beneath his weight, kissing him senseless. And now with the madness of the heat he truly is senseless. 

Kissing in the light of day is terrifying, but Richie's tongue is in his mouth, and his hands are cupping his ass, and he doesn't seem to mind the way Eddie's hard dick is pressed firmly against him, trapped between both their bodies.

Eddie gasps around his tongue and he wonders, not for the first time, why it has to be Richie who makes his heart beat so hard beneath his chest? The knowledge is too much for him to bear but he doesn't seem to be alone and that is his sole comfort. 

He tightens his legs around Richie's waist, rutting himself against his stomach. The pressure is only enough to tease and he wants so damn much more, but he's still too terrified to ask. In the safety of the water the things their bodies are doing can be forgiven and ignored. 

"Eddie," Richie's tongue traces his bottom lip, allowing the pace to slow. "Oh, shit."

His brain briefly registers laughter behind him from the shore, but the next thing he realizes is being submerged under water.

Standing up quickly, he wipes water from his eyes and spits a mouthful out at Richie. Splashing him, he yells, “You dick!”

Richie’s dodging the water and waving behind Eddie. He hears Stan and Ben behind him on the shoreline, running in. 

“Hey guys!” Richie calls out.

Eddie’s eyes open wide, asking quickly, “Did they see?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Richie replies, his forced smile faltering.

“Then I won!” Eddie pushes him, “Ha!”

“You do _not_ want to play _that game_ with me, Kaspbrak. I was doing you a favor,” Richie replies.

“You didn’t have to dunk me!”

"You punch me in the face, I dunk you underwater. Call it even."

Eddie swims behind him, wrapping his arms around Richie’s neck, latching onto his back. He’s pleased when Richie grabs onto his legs, helping hold him up. He’s still hard, and pushes himself against Richie’s spine so he knows it’s still there. Feeling like an asshole on his own, he whispers to Richie, “If we have a _normal_ chicken fight, think you’d turn around the other way for me so you can blow me at the same time?”

“What?!” Richie’s hissing.

Laughing, Eddie pushes himself up enough to climb onto Richie’s shoulders and yells out, “Who’s first?” 

Gay Chicken is put on hold while Stan and Ben are with them. Stan puts up a good fight but Eddie’s able to stay on Richie’s shoulders longer. There are plenty of moments where they graze over each other under the water. Eddie knows he’s too obvious, always on top of Richie, _pretending_ to dunk him while only succeeding at rubbing their bodies together. 

And he can’t get enough of the way Richie is looking at him. He feels like he’s burning. Richie makes him feel like no one else is around. Like maybe they could kiss in front of Ben and Stan, and why the hell should they care? They’re supposed to be their friends, right?

But he’s far too insecure for that. He knows exactly what they’d think of him if he did. He hears it from his mother when he listens to Blur as a protest to the town. She lectures about the disgusting perverse men who’d create songs like that just to tempt nice boys into wicked ways. Eddie assures her it’s just a song, but it’s more than that now. Ever since Richie kissed him, he’s been certain of it, deep down.

After they’re exhausted from swimming, Richie and Ben lay out in the sun on their towels while Eddie and Stan look for shade.

“What’s going on with you and Richie?”

Eddie’s heart drops when Stan asks. He’s not a good liar. He knows that. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, like, you went from kicking the shit out of him to being inseparable,” Stan asks.

“He’s the only other one not working this summer,” Eddie shrugs. “We hang out a lot.”

“I dunno,” Stan squints his eyes at him skeptically. “You guys just seem different. Weird.” He picks up a stick and starts pulling the leaves off, “He’s nicer to you. Maybe it was good you beat his ass. Do you really buy that he and Bev aren’t together? She stayed at his house again on the Fourth.”

“Why would he lie about it?” Eddie asks like it’s not something he spends all his free time worrying about.

“I still can’t believe they actually had sex.”

Eddie hates thinking about it. Jealousy tears at him from the inside. He replies, “Crazy right?”

“I’m really gonna miss him when we leave. I mean, I’m gonna miss everyone. Do you think about it? About leaving?”

“I try hard not to, but, I’ll be away from my mom-”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, Eddie. You probably can’t wait to go.” Stan smiles sadly at him, “You know I love you, right?”

“Why are you talking about this shit?” Eddie asks.

“I just can’t stop thinking about how we’re all going to be gone. Everyone is going to leave and we’re all going to move on with our lives and forget about each other. I love you guys so much.” Stan rubs his palm, “You _know_ what we’ve been through. Who the hell else out there is gonna understand that shit?” Sighing he adds, “I’m just scared, I guess.”

Eddie wraps his arms around him tightly and Stan returns the hug. Rubbing his back, Eddie says, “Stan, I love you too, man. You know we’ll never stop being friends no matter what.” He squeezes tighter. “My mom is gonna make me come home all the time, and there’s always holidays and breaks-”

He pulls away to see Stan nodding to himself, “Thanks, Eddie.” He takes a deep breath and adds, “I still think you and Richie are acting weird.”

He feels bad for lying to him, so instead he says, “I think it’s just like you said. We’re all sad about moving. Scared of leaving. Richie and I-” he gives him a shrug and a smile before adding, “I don’t know.”

Stan shakes his head, “If I didn’t know better, I’d-” But then he stops.

“You’d what?” Eddie asks nervously. He wonders if he knows. If he’d understand. If maybe Eddie _could_ confide in him. But there’s only a few weeks left. Despite the show in the water, Eddie doesn’t want to change how his best friends view him over the last few weeks of summer. 

“Nothing,” Stan shakes his head, “Nevermind.”

When they all have their fill of the sun, they decide to part ways. Richie takes Eddie home and Eddie insists he come inside for a while as he tugs on his arm in the front seat. Richie finally relents, throwing the car in park. Eddie smiles as he trails behind him on the way into his house.

Eddie slaps him on the back as they walk inside and Richie hisses.

“Fuck! You _didn’t_ wear sunscreen, did you? You fucking moron.” Eddie shakes his head.

“Hey, Mrs. K!” Richie waves and calls out as they walk past the living room.

“Go to my room. I’ll be right there,” he orders.

Leaning in, speaking softly in a feminine voice, Richie says, “Don’t leave me waiting all night, stud.”

Eddie turns away and tries not to panic. Fucking around in public was one thing because Eddie knew it wasn’t going to lead anywhere, but now he’s about to have Richie in his room. Alone. He’s suddenly worried that maybe he _should_ freak the fuck out.

Pushing it aside, he goes to his mother’s emergency medicine cabinet and loads himself up with supplies. Filling a tall glass of water, he drops a few ice cubes in and turns to go upstairs.

“He’s not to stay late, Eddie,” Sonia stands in front of him.

“I know, Ma,” he replies sheepishly, stepping around her. 

He runs up to his room to find Richie lying on his bed. And the sight of Richie only in swimming trunks, lounging there like he owns the place, makes Eddie’s chest tighten. The fan in his room is blowing but it doesn’t do much to help with the stifling heat. 

“So you’re gonna rub me down afterall?” Richie teases.

“Not how _you_ want,” he drops the supplies on his desk, wondering if he could. Wondering if he could take Richie’s dick in his hand and stoke and pump him hard and fast enough until he came. 

Blushing, Eddie shoves Richie the glass of water in his hand as he sits down next to him on the bed. 

Propping himself up on his elbow, Richie teases “Oh, Eds. Don’t go breaking my heart. All that foreplay at the quarry and you’re not gonna follow through? My balls are so blue I’m like a fuckin’ smurf over here.”

Eddie ignores the comment. He’s pretty sure he’s joking. And maybe a little serious. Instead, he focuses on the way Richie’s throat bobs while drinking the water. When he finishes, Eddie takes his glass and orders, “Get on your stomach.”

Richie does, but he’s smirking across his shoulder when he says, “I like a man who knows what he wants. Just gonna get right to it. That’s respectable.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to help you here.” Eddie repositions the way he’s sitting and squirts aloe vera on his back. The bottle makes a noise which they both laugh at. Then Eddie rubs the gel into his skin, feeling it melt away like nothing.

“Think you could use that as lube?” Richie asks, sounding genuinely curious.

“What? Gross. No.” Eddie thinks about it and changes his mind as he studies it on his hand, “Maybe? Flip over.”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about, Eds,” Richie rolls, shivering from the gel. “Lube me up. Give me a happy ending.”

“If my mom walks in here and sees you with a boner-”

“Wouldn’t be the first time she’s seen it!” Richie holds his hand out for a high-five. 

Eddie pulls it down and squirts more gel on his chest.

Richie hisses, “Fucking bitch tits! That’s cold.”

Eddie doesn’t have to do his chest. It’s not as burned as his back and Richie can reach it himself if he wants, but he likes having a reason to touch him. He tries not to think about the way his thumb grazes over Richie’s nipples. He can’t meet Richie’s eyes, he knows he’s watching him, probably sees the blush he’s fighting, but he continues to spread the gel until it becomes sticky on his skin.

“Move over,” Eddie demands, wiping his hands off on a towel. 

There isn’t anywhere for him to go, but Richie makes room for Eddie to curl around him. 

Richie holds up his left hand and Eddie copies him, bringing their hands close together to compare scars. 

“Is it fucked up that I love these?” Richie asks, studying them.

Eddie knows what he means. “I kinda like how it ties us all together. How it’s proof. Sometimes it feels like It was just a dream. Well, nightmare. Do you ever feel that?”

“Yeah. The older we get the harder it is to remember, but when I see my hand I know it was real.”

Reaching out with his finger, Eddie traces the white line of a scar on Richie’s hand. He loves Richie’s hands. He doesn’t know when it happened or how he realized it, but he does. 

“I gotta ask you something, Eds.”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“When you broke your arm and Bill sliced your hand, how’d you go about beating your meat?”

Eddie drops his hand and laughs despite his better judgment, then elbows Richie who hisses from the pain. He decides to surprise Richie and answer honestly, “I had to wait until my palm healed and it fucking sucked because it was still my left hand. Got pretty good with it by the end, though.”

Richie cackles a laugh.

“I have a serious one for you. Are you worried about college?” Eddie asks.

Richie’s quiet for too long, Eddie wonders if he’ll answer at all.

“I hate this town, Eddie. I can’t live here a day longer than I have to.”

Eddie gets a lump in his throat when he says it, serious and with intention. It’s not what he was expecting either. 

“Stan’s worried,” he says. Moving his right hand, he interlocks Richie’s fingers and drops their hands to his bed. “I am too. I’m gonna miss you guys.” He takes a deep breath.

“Is that why you were hugging him?”

Eddie lifts an eyebrow, “You were watching us?”

“Yeah, I was jealous as hell.”

Eddie’s always amazed at how sincere Richie can be when he chooses. It should be embarrassing, but he’s able to deliver with so much confidence that Eddie can’t even tease him for it. 

Squeezing his hand, Eddie says, “He thinks something’s going on between us.”

“Shit. Did he see us earlier?”

“I don’t think so. I told him it’s just that everyone else is working this summer so we've been spending time together.”

“No more Gay Chicken, I guess,” Richie sighs. “I kind of liked it. You’re a deviant little shit, you know that?”

Smiling, Eddie knows he had the safety of broad daylight to hide in. It’s moments like these when they’re alone and have a room to themselves that Eddie feels terrified. 

Sighing, Richie admits, “Coming back here was on my list.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s like my favorite place in this town. When you pack up it’s not gonna look the same.”

 _“My house_ is your favorite place in town?”

“Your room,” Richie clarifies. “Your bed,” he adds quietly.

It’s easy for Eddie to push his fear aside when he says things like that. Eddie stands from the bed and walks over to his desk. He unplugs the lamp then quietly pushes the entire desk until it’s pressed firmly against his door. 

When he looks back at Richie, he’s shooting him a knowing smile, about to make a dumbass remark. Eddie interrupts him before he can, “Shut up! I don’t want my mom walking in on us.”

“Why’s that, Eds? What are we gonna do that you don’t want her to see?”

Returning to his bed, this time when they kiss it feels familiar. Richie rolls on his side making room and Eddie finds space against him, kissing deeply. 

Richie’s hands are on his hips, then wandering under his shirt, feeling the planes of his chest. It feels like he’s sinking into him, intoxicated and dizzy, willing to follow further and deeper. Tongues demanding and sweat beading on his brow, while Richie’s thumb teases over his nipple. Eddie’s hard and trapped in the netting of his trunks, not as easily managed out of the water. He wants to be free of them as he ruts against Richie, but he’s still too scared to make that move.

Because somewhere, deep down, he still has a voice telling him not to. That it’s wrong. That they shouldn’t. And kissing is okay because Richie said it’s not gay. Even if he-

Eddie shakes the thoughts from his head. The panting breaths, and hushed whispers of Richie kissing along his neck distract him from it. When he latches onto his neck, Eddie cries softly, “Wait!” He pulls his shirt over his head. “If you’re gonna mark me up, make sure it’s below the shirt-line.”

Grinning wickedly, Richie asks, “How far below?”

Eddie doesn’t answer, though, because Richie’s hot mouth is back on his neck and biting at his collar bone. He’s sucking hard, while his hand is pinching Eddie’s nipples. 

“Fuck, Rich,” Eddie tries not to thrust against him.

It’s all so overwhelming, like he’s too sensitive and can’t take how Richie makes him feel. Not only loved and cherished, but that he’s brave and strong, even though he knows he’s not. 

With Richie, he is. With Richie, Eddie can do anything.

And Richie’s hand begins to move from his neck, along his ribs, teasing low on his swimming trunks band.

He wants to tell him to do it. To put his hand in and grab his cock and stroke him through it until he can’t remember who they are anymore.

But when his fingers begin to dip under the elastic, he starts hearing that voice again.

_Queer._

_Sissy boy._

_Faggot._

“Wait, wait,” Eddie pulls back.

“Fuck, you gonna hit me?”

“No!” Eddie closes his eyes tightly, “I told you I was sorry like a thousand times, you’re not over it yet?” He shakes his head, “I just, I can’t... do... _that.”_ He doesn’t know where his honesty comes from and he’s waiting for Richie to call him names, or mock him.

“Okay,” Richie whispers.

“Okay? It’s okay?” 

“Yeah, Eddie. This is already perfect.” Richie’s rubbing absently at his wrist, “Kissing is good. It’s great. I could kiss you forever” 

He doesn’t know how Richie’s able to make him feel so safe.

“You’re not mad?” 

“No,” Richie brings his wrist to his lips and kisses it gently, “I just won Gay Chicken.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie laughs, pushing him away.

“You do that and _you’re_ definitely the winner of Gay Chicken. Or is that a tie? Who wins if we fuck? I think whoever takes it up the ass should definitely get a few extra points. Maybe I’ll let you win that one. Wait, what about a blowjob? What’s the division of points on that?”

Eddie’s laughing at him fully now. 

“You know, you’re kind of all talk, though. That shit you said in the quarry. I almost blew my load right there. Call _me_ trashmouth? What the fuck, Eddie?”

They tease each other a while longer before Eddie hears his mom coming up the stairs. He jumps from his bed, returning his desk just in time for her to open the door. Richie’s still laying back on his bed, throwing a ball into the air like it’s the highest form of entertainment, and Eddie is sitting cross legged on the chair by his desk. 

She tells them it’s time for Richie to go home then walks back downstairs, leaving the door wide open as she goes.

They stand at the same time. Richie pulls Eddie in for one last kiss, it’s slow and deep and he feels reluctant to separate but they eventually pull away.

“See ya later, Eddie,” he smiles, as he walks out of his room. 

Eddie’s going to be a wreck when he leaves town for good.

**Richie**

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I am so fuckin’ hyped!” Richie jumps along the length of Ben’s van outside of his house. 

The door slides open. Ben is behind the wheel with Mike in the front seat next to him. Bill and Stan are in the middle. Bev, who stayed with Richie the previous night, throws in a backpack of extra clothes, and climbs into the far back seat.

“Where the fuck is Eddie?” Richie’s heart sinks. 

Ben shrugs, “He was fighting with his mom. He told us to come here.”

“Oh, fuck that. He’s coming though, right?” Richie asks. He’s not going to the concert to end all concerts without Eddie. No fuckin’ way.

“I don’t know. We picked up Stan then came here. He never showed?” Ben asked.

Richie shakes his head. He starts pacing the length of the van again, biting his thumb, trying to figure out what he can do or say to convince Mrs. K to let Eddie come with them.

“Okay,” he says to the group, “I’m gonna go get him. Just wait here. I’ll try to be fast.”

Just as he’s about to run back inside for the keys to his car, he sees Eddie turn the corner of his block. He has a duffle bag hanging off his shoulder and he looks pissed as hell. 

Richie runs down the road to meet him. Panting, he says, “Christ, I was worried you wouldn’t show. What happened?”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, stomping directly past. Richie can tell Eddie isn’t in the mood for any shit so he follows behind. When they get to the van, Eddie snaps at Ben to unlock the trunk. 

Walking around to the back, he throws his bag in, then turns to Richie, “Where’s your shit?” 

“I didn’t pack a bag,” Richie laughs, “We’ll be back at like, what? 5:00 AM at the latest? What the hell do I need a bag for?”

“Idiot,” Eddie sighs. “We’ll be right back,” he calls to the gang, then grabs Richie’s arm and pulls him towards his house.

When they get to Richie’s room, with the door latched shut tight, Eddie asks, “Can I spend the night? Or the day, whatever. Whenever we get back, can I stay?”

“Yeah, of course. You know Bev’s staying here too, right?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I don’t care. I just-”

Eddie looks like he’s going to cry, he’s wringing his fingers and his eyes are welling up. It makes Richie’s chest ache, so he reaches out to him and pulls him into a hug, “What the hell happened?”

Eddie clings to his back. “She said I couldn’t go and I just snapped. I- I- I told her to fuck off, I’m an adult, right? I’m gonna be gone in a week anyway. I told her if she didn’t let me go I’d leave and never come back. Then I walked out.”

“Fuck,” Richie sighs, grasping onto him in a tight embrace, absently stroking his back. 

Eddie wipes his face and pushes away from Richie too soon. “Come on. I need to get out of this fucking town.” He goes into Richie’s closet and starts pulling clothes. “Go get a bag.”

Richie rolls his eyes, but does it anyway if it’ll calm Eddie down. “This is a little excessive,” he says to the pile of clothing and other items Eddie has stacked on his floor. He throws the duffle bag down. 

Eddie starts shoving sweatshirts, another pair of shoes, and way too many socks into the bag. “It’s not. I’m not the only one with a bag in the van.”

“No, but it was the biggest.”

“Because I’m not going back,” Eddie glares at him.

“You’re really not going back home?”

Eddie rubs at his eyes, and says, “I don’t know. I just packed a ton of shit and walked out. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

“You can stay here as long as you want,” Richie’s heart leaps as he offers. They only have a week now, but if that’s a full week with Eddie he’ll gladly take it.

“Thanks Richie,” Eddie says.

Richie cups his face in his hands and kisses him, still in disbelief that he’s allowed. All they’ve done since that day in the Clubhouse is kiss, but Richie never even thought he’d have that. And now Eddie’s forehead is leaning against his own, and their breath is mingling until he calms down.

“Ready?” Richie asks.

Eddie nods. 

Richie picks up the bag, which weighs a ton, “Jesus Christ!”

Eddie’s pulling a blanket off Richie’s bed and they walk out of his house together.

Everyone is out of the van now, stretching their legs on the lawn one last time before the four hour car ride.

“Alright, Losers! You ready for the best fuckin’ road trip in the history of Derry!” Richie calls to them.

“We’re not going to be in Derry,” Stan replies dryly.

“That’s what makes it so fuckin’ great, Stanley!” Richie retorts. 

Stan rolls his eyes. 

“Shotgun!” Bev calls.

“You can’t call shotgun! I already had it,” Mike complains. 

“Only because Ben picked you up first,” Bev replies. “Doesn’t count.”

Richie watches as Ben gives Mike a quiet, pleading look before he relents, “Fine. Only for a little while.”

“I brought some tapes,” she smiles at Richie intentionally as she opens the door.

He calls out in a sing-song voice, “Fuck you, Beverly Marsh!”

“Not if past behavior is an indicator of future performance,” she replies sweetly.

Richie blushes.

“What does that mean?” Bill asks.

“Nothing,” Richie says quickly, “Bev’s just a dick.”

Eddie pushes Richie into the far back drivers side of the van. As he climbs in after him, he whispers, “What was that about? Did you suck at it or something?”

Richie glares back, but offers honestly, “I told you it was a disaster. Not my finest moment.”

It’s enough to get Eddie to crack a smile, so Richie thinks it might be worth it.

“Oh,” Stan says as he joins them in the back, “So _that’s_ why you’re not together. That actually makes sense.”

“Shut up, _Stanley,”_ Richie replies.

It’s hard to be mad, though, because Eddie’s giggling next to him. Even if it’s at his expense, Eddie’s happy, so Richie smiles too.

“Small dick or couldn’t get it up?” Stan teases.

Eddie’s laughing hard now. Richie raises his eyebrow to him as if to say, _You think I have either of those issues, you fucker?_ But instead he says, “Too big, Stan. Couldn’t handle the main course.”

They all laugh at that.

“Fuck you guys. Ask _her._ I’m not lying.”

Bill and Mike turn around, smiling in confusion. 

Mike asks, “What are you talking about?”

“Just how Sonia can’t handle my huge cock.”

Eddie elbows him in the side, but the smile stays at the corner of his mouth.

The drive goes well. No major problems on the road. No flat tires. Police leave them alone because Ben drives like a grandma, perfectly within the limit. They only need to stop for food and the bathroom once because they are on a fucking mission to get to the concert as quickly as they are able.

Beverly has songs picked for all of them. They laugh at the New Kids On The Block for Ben. Everyone sings along to Blur with Eddie. She makes note that no matter what happens, she and Richie will definitely be breaking down the gate to see Nine Inch Nails right before she plays _Closer._

Richie tries not to think about Eddie during _that_ song, but he always fails. He wonders if this time Eddie might even be thinking about him too, because he moves his arm enough to squeeze in next to Richie’s, then his pinky is overlapping his and rubbing along with the song. She plays the rest of the music she’s chosen for the others then the hits from the bands who’ll be there. 

By the time they get near the field Woodstock is located in, they decide to park a few miles away. Ben finds a place, mostly in the middle of nowhere except for the sea of cars surrounding them from everyone else who had the same idea. 

Piling out of the van, Eddie looks up to the sky and says, “Fuck, I think it’s gonna rain.” Walking around to the back, he opens the trunk, and starts digging around in his bag.

They can hear the thumping of the music even though they’re miles off. Richie’s heart races with excitement. He’s so fucking glad they came.

“You know they’re filming this, right?” Stan asks.

“Really?” Ben smiles.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be on MTV.”

“Shit! We’re gonna be on MTV? That’s awesome,” Richie says.

 _“We’re_ not going to. The bands are,” Stan corrects.

“We _could_ be. We’ll have to start passing Eddie around, body surf him up to the stage,” Richie smirks.

“What?! Why me?” Eddie protests, turning back.

“You’re the smallest. It’ll be easier to hoist you up. Pass you along,” he teases.

“Fuck you, Richie. Remind me why I tolerate you again?” 

Richie leans in and whispers for only him to hear, “‘Cause of how hard I make you and how bad I wanna suck you off.”

Eddie bumps his head against the window and drops his backpack. He stares back at Richie wide eyed. “Shut the hell up,” he hisses, looking towards their friends with intention.

“They’re not paying attention,” Richie nods towards the others, and he's right, they're not. But that doesn't stop his heart from racing from being bold enough to say it with their friends so near.

“I don’t want to play Gay Chicken right now,” Eddie mumbles, turning back to his duffle bag.

“I’m not playing,” Richie admits simply. He sits on the back of the open trunk and watches as his friends stretch and laugh around the van, too involved in their own conversations to notice. Richie looks up at Eddie. “I wanna blow you so bad,” his chest aches with how much he wants it. Maybe he shouldn’t be saying it, but it’s hardly a surprise at this point. He adds, “Just thought you should know.”

He stands up abruptly and the van bounces from the weight.

Eddie gives him a dirty look. He doesn’t know if it’s from moving the van or from what he said. Richie shoulders next to him, “What are you doing anyway?”

“Packing things we’ll need to bring in there.”

“No, you are not bringing a backpack in. Come on, dude.” Richie grabs it from him and puts it back.

“What if someone gets hurt or-”

“They’ll have medical tents, or booths and shit.”

Eddie looks back to his bag and sighs. He opens the zipper and pulls out a water bottle and a small bag and shoves it in his pocket. Richie shakes his head. They both stand there, without moving. Richie can tell Eddie’s thinking.

“What?” He asks finally.

“Why’d you tell me that _now?”_ Eddie’s fingers play with his shirt.

“About blowing you? I thought you already knew,” Richie shrugs. 

“I didn’t know you were serious,” he replies quietly.

“Oh,” Richie’s eyebrows lift in surprise. They’d been plastered over each other the last couple weeks. Richie’s dick was nearly sore from how often he had to jerk off because of Eddie, he thought it was pretty clear that he wanted to suck him off. “Well, keep it in mind, I guess. Come on!” He pulls him away and they close the trunk together.

Eddie looks up at the sky, “I really think it’s gonna rain, guys.”

“Then we’ll have a mud fight!” Richie laughs.

It takes a while to make it to the location with the stages but they follow the music, growing louder, pounding in their chests, and soon see a large chain link fence. They follow where they see a small group gathered and laugh at each other for how easy it is to break through. None of them are prepared for what they see when they get inside and closer to the stage. The sheer number of bodies walking and jumping and singing is overwhelming.

“Uh,” Stan says nervously.

“What do we do if we get split up?” Eddie asks, crowding closer to Richie.

“Let’s buddy up and if we get split, let’s just plan on meeting back at the van at, what- midnight? One?” Bill asks.

 _“Between_ midnight and one,” Stan says. 

Bev grabs Bill’s hand. Mike and Ben shrug at one another.

“Great. I got Grams and Gramps. Best concert ever,” Richie says sarcastically. “Buddy?” Richie hooks Stan’s arm then turns to Eddie, “Buddy?” Eddie rolls his eyes but does the same. “Which one of you brought the acid again?”

They laugh as they wander through the thousands of bodies, making it closer to the stages. They find that they snuck in by a row of porta-potties near the North stage. The swarm of people is unreal and they all hold onto each other in a tight line weaving around the massive crowd.

“Rich! Richie, holy fucking shit!” Eddie’s jumping against his arm. He breaks their link to grab Richie’s face, turning it to the side.

“Jesus fuck, is that?” Richie’s heart is pounding hard.

“Shit,” Bev says, [“That’s Chris Farley.” ](https://external-preview.redd.it/6XtnoIaNm1N9AzHd5ZXQ0e0uzsaF9LvrKwIIneRXgqY.jpg?auto=webp&s=1cda288a4aac59507b779046b4d9f201c9520326)

“Go say something to him,” Stan says.

“No, I can’t. Holy fuck. That’s Chris Farley!”

He’s smiling and talking and walking through the crowd and then he’s lost among the sea of people.

Richie jumps up and down, “That was real, right? That happened?”

They laugh at him and assure him, yes, he just saw Chris Farley. It’s already the best day of his life and they haven’t even listened to any of the bands yet.

Wandering around, they figure out the map of the area. It’s huge and they’re too far away from the stage to really see anyone playing but they’re all too afraid to get much closer. The mosh pits are going hard, the smell of pot is thick in the air. Richie wonders if they can get high off of it or maybe find someone willing to share. 

Eventually they find a place to sit between listening to the bands. Richie extends his legs and Bev puts her head in his lap. He looks down at her with a soft smile, playing with her hair. He turns to Mike deep in conversation with Bill. Eddie and Stan are discussing what will happen if the porta-potties overflow and how the concert is definitely beyond capacity because they weren’t the only ones sneaking in. Ben tries to assure them that even if they’re past capacity, they’re still outside and it’s all safe.

Richie watches them all with so much overwhelming love in his heart, he feels like it’s going to burst. Bev reaches her hand out to him, her left hand with the same scar as his own. Richie kisses her knuckles.

“I know, Rich,” she says to him. “I know.”

And she does. 

Next week when he leaves is going to rival the pain and fear he felt fighting Pennywise. 

Thunder echoes loudly around them and Eddie swears, “It’s gonna fuckin’ rain!” 

Then it rains.

It definitely rains.

It fucking pours.

And Eddie’s insufferable and miserable about it. The mosh pits turn to mud pits and it’s unavoidable, they all get soaked. Richie doesn’t mind too much because Eddie looks hot with his shirt clinging to his lithe frame. He’s probably giving him too obvious stares, but he really doesn’t give a fuck.

People around them are stoned and drunk and high as shit, and no one gives a fuck about anything. Despite being sober, Richie feels like he fits right in. 

At one point when the rain lets up a little, Richie grabs Eddie and smiles. He forces him to his feet and drags him over to a puddle. He protests at first, yelling at Richie to stop, but soon they’re both jumping, splashing each other with mud. Richie slips and falls on his ass and Eddie is on top of him, wrestling him, pinning him down. Richie flips him over, getting on top, and he never thought that was something he’d be used to, the feeling of Eddie’s body beneath him.

He smiles down at him in adoration. The way Eddie’s covered in filth but laughing so effortlessly, he’s never looked more beautiful. 

When too many people start to crowd in, and they fear being trampled, they leave and return to the group, both covered in mud. But the rain is still pouring and they’re able to wipe some of it off after they sit. 

When it finally relents, Bev breaks out the cigarettes she’s somehow sheltered from the weather and shares them with Richie. He lifts an eyebrow at her, towards the group next to them who are smoking pot. She considers it a moment before shaking her head.

Richie wonders if he could score some off of them himself, but decides against it too. 

Night falls too fast and when [Nine Inch Nails](https://www.revolvermag.com/sites/default/files/styles/original_image__844px_x_473px_/public/media/images/section-gallery/4-j.cultice-nin-woodstock-1994v1_etv1.jpg?itok=xxb_FYkv&timestamp=1544201591) hits the stage covered in mud, Bev and Richie stand and cheer. 

“Come on, we have to get closer to the stage,” Bev is pulling Bill’s arm. His eyes light up and he goes happily with her.

“Eds? Stan?” Richie smiles.

“Ben and Mike are my buddies now,” Stan replies.

“We’re staying here,” Mike adds.

Richie doesn’t give Eddie a chance to say no. He pulls his arm until he’s standing and swearing, “Jesus fuck. Just wait.” He fishes around for something in his pocket and pulls out the bag.

“What the fuck is that?” Richie asks.

“Ear plugs. I’m not going deaf prematurely because of a stupid fucking concert.” He extends his hand to Richie, offering him some for himself.

“Eddie, you’re ridiculous and I love you for it. Let’s go,” Richie pushes the ear plugs back into his hand without taking any. 

Eddie fumbles to return them to his pocket as Richie pulls him into the crowd. He takes him farther in than they’ve been before, crammed against so many other people. 

Richie gets to a place where he’s satisfied, then pulls Eddie to stand in front of him. Eddie’s putting his earplugs in and Richie’s smiling fondly at him from behind, shaking his head.

The band is about fifteen minutes into their set. It’s so crowded that Eddie’s ass is pushed firmly against his dick. He hopes he doesn’t mind, because the crowd is jumping and it’s forcing them both to jump along.The friction of Eddie’s ass against his dick is making him hard. It’s far from the first time Eddie’s felt Richie’s hard dick against him, but it’s definitely the most public. 

When the next song slows to one of his favorite’s, Richie reaches his arms around and tucks his hands against Eddie’s stomach. No one can see below their chests anyway. No one can see how he’s holding him. This is what Richie couldn’t have at the dance that he wanted so badly. He’s surprised and relieved when Eddie’s hand wraps over his, holding them together in place. They sway with the other bodies in the crowd and Richie never wants to let go.

_Y_ _ou make this all go away_

_You make this all go away_

_I just want something_

_I just want something I can never have_

_You always were the one to show me how_

_Back then I couldn't do the things that I can do now_

_This thing is slowly take me apart_

_Grey would be the color if I had a heart_

Richie’s still hard. Eddie’s moving just enough to keep his dick interested. He tries to ignore it the best he can. Eddie’s still not pulling away, he’s grasping Richie’s hand tight, though, and he’s starting to think maybe he should back off. Maybe it’s too much. He doesn’t want to push him away when they only have a week together. But Eddie moves first. He pushes Richie’s hand down and Richie hopes he’s not too pissed at him.

Only, Eddie’s holding Richie’s palm firmly against his own hard cock. Richie’s stomach jumps as Eddie moves Richie’s hand up and down the length of him. He’s breathing hard against his neck and pushing himself against Eddie’s ass.

Eddie stops and Richie thinks maybe that was too far, so he freezes. Until Eddie’s moving their hands again, lifting his shirt. And Richie can feel how smooth his skin is against the tips of his fingers. He traces along the band of his pants but doesn’t dare go further.

Eddie’s shoving his ass against him and now Richie’s hard as hell. With his free hand, the one Eddie isn’t gripping, Richie dips into his own pants to aim his cock up and tuck it into the band of his pants. The relief from the comfort only lasts a moment, and then Eddie’s pulling at the fabric of his pants and shoving Richie’s hand down.

Richie grasps his cock and is stunned. He knows what to do with it but he can’t believe that Eddie would want him to. Not after last time and certainly not in the crowd of thousands of people. Richie has to use his other hand to grip Eddie’s hip to keep his balance, but he’s still too afraid to move the hand holding his cock, like maybe it was a mistake, or just for safekeeping? Until he feels Eddie’s hand outside his clothes, helping guide him to stroke.

It snaps him out of his thoughts and into action.

There isn’t room and the angle is awkward, but Richie does his damnedest to stroke his cock.

Richie laughs to himself, shuddering when he recognizes the next song as _Closer._

Eddie knows this song by now, he has to. And he’s even more confident of it when he feels him push back against his own hard-on. Richie’s only a man. He can’t resist. He tried his best, but his hand is gripped around the boy he loves and at least for now he’s not going to fight it. 

He starts pumping Eddie with intention. He feels how much he’s leaking at the tip and thumbs over it, not meaning to tease, but in complete awe that Eddie wants this from him.

_I want to fuck you like an animal_

_I want to feel you from the inside_

_I want to fuck you like an animal_

_My whole existence is flawed_

_You get me closer to god_

Eddie’s pushing back so hard against his cock and Richie wonders if he could get off from that alone. He knows Eddie’s close, he can tell by the way his shoulders rise and fall erratically. It reminds him of when he’s panicking, looking for his inhaler, which is kind of a fucked up thought to have when he's trying to get him off.

Richie’s wrapping his hand tighter around Eddie’s dick, stroking the best he can, and wishing more than anything they could be kissing while he’s doing it. Then Eddie’s squirming against him and he needs to use his left hand to hold his hip back. And Richie feels hot come drip down his knuckles.

Pulling lightly, draining him, Richie is so close to coming on his own. He thinks, if only Eddie pushed back a little more, a little harder.

And it’s like he read his mind, because he does.

The hottest song Richie knows is being played in front of him and Eddie fucking Kaspbrak is grinding against his dick. 

Pulling out his come covered hand, he holds Eddie’s hips and lets the thrust of the crowd take him. Pressing against Eddie while he’s pushing back. Eddie’s hand reaches back, grabbing at his hip, forcing him to thrust harder against his ass.

Richie really can’t take it anymore. He lets himself come and is praying like hell that the mud covered stains are covering what they both have done.

He rests his head against the back of Eddie’s neck for a brief moment before he wonders what it looks like. Worried about how obvious they just were. Eddie just fucked his fist in a crowd of thousands and he’s not running away. 

He’s grabbing at Richie’s hand, come not even dried over his knuckles, bringing it back to his stomach over his shirt, and interlocking their fingers to reassure Richie, _We’re okay._

Richie stands there dazed for a while, lost in a cloud of what’s happened between them. It could be years he stands there, but he knows Nine Inch Nails are getting to the end of their set so he grabs Eddie’s shoulders and reluctantly turns him around.

He’s been terrified of his moment, facing him, reading the look wondering if it'll be hatred.

Eddie’s looking up at him through his mud dried face, with a sheepish fear, but a heat behind his eyes that is undeniable. Richie smiles at him, then grabs his hand and they weave their way out of the crowd. 

They’re able to find Stan, Mike, and Ben near where they left them. Richie doesn’t want to drop Eddie’s hand, so he doesn’t until _Head Like a Hole_ begins. Then he’s jumping and singing and pulling Eddie to do the same. He doesn’t think Eddie knows the song, but his eyes light up as they jump together anyway. 

Not long after the song finishes and they’re discussing making it back to the van, Bev and Bill immerge with huge smiles on their faces. Grabbing onto each other’s shoulders they form a line, fight through the crowd, and stumble tiredly back to Ben’s van.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listening Vibes for this chapter - Ordinary World by Duran Duran
> 
> But I won't cry for yesterday  
> There's an ordinary world  
> Somehow I have to find  
> And as I try to make my way  
> To the ordinary world  
> I will learn to survive

**Eddie**

“Ugh,” Eddie peels his shirt off behind the open trunk of the van. He’s freezing. His feet are soaked. His shoes are probably destroyed. He can’t even think about the situation in his pants or he’ll start freaking out all over again.

Richie joins him, shirt dropping in a squelch on the ground.

Both of their hands are on the zippers of their pants by the time Bev walks by.

“That’s right,” Richie smirks at her, “Look all you want. I know you can’t get enough, Beverly.”

Wandering closer with a wry grin, she sits on the back of the van between them and gestures smugly for them to continue undressing. “Alright, get on with the show.” 

Eddie’s eyes go wide and he turns to Richie.

“You think I won’t?” Richie attempts to pull his pants down, but with how saturated and covered in mud they are the movement isn’t smooth. He struggles and both Bev and Eddie end up laughing at him.

He does succeed eventually, though. 

Eddie turns his head away, trying his best to avoid looking even though he's beyond curious. He focuses on Bev instead, who’s still smiling at Richie not looking away at all.

“I know you love it,” Richie goads. “I told them what you said about my big dick.” 

Eddie coughs at that.

“You told everyone?” Her brow furrows, she looks hurt.

“He didn’t tell us." Eddie explains quickly, "Stan and I overheard you at the Clubhouse. The other guys don’t know.”

“It’s not like you’re all subtle with that mixed tape,” Richie adds.

Mike walks around the corner of the van suddenly, crying out, “Aaaand Richie’s dick is out! Okay!” He spins on his heel and walks away. Eddie hears him calling to the others, “Richie’s naked, guys!”

Bev’s laughing again.

“Get the fuck outta here, Bev. Eddie’s shy and I’ve been trying to get him naked for years.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie grabs boxers from Richie’s bag. Twisting around, he throws them at his face. While he’s distracted, Eddie glimpses down before getting caught. “Put your clothes on. No one wants to see your naked ass.” He turns, “Except Bev, apparently, which Stan and I are still confused as hell about.”

She flips him off with a smile, then stands and walks closer. Giving Eddie a hug, she kisses his cheek and says, “He really does have a nice dick.” Then walks away, “Have fun, boys.”

Richie walks next to him, no longer naked, and pushes at his shoulders. “She’s just being an asshole,” he assures him. 

“I knew you didn’t have a nice dick.”

“Not about that! She was nothing but brutally honest about my dick.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie teases.

“You want me to whip it out for you again, Eds? All you gotta do is ask.”

“Knock it off,” Eddie bumps into his shoulders. “Turn around,” he orders, clutching his clean clothing like a shield to hide behind.

Richie’s mouth is open with a smirk. Eddie can tell he’s about to make another smartass remark. Even though he’s freezing, Richie makes his face burn. He’s looking Eddie up and down, tilting his head like he wants to pin him against the van, but all Eddie wants to do is get out of his dirty clothes.

Eddie holds his breath and waits for a lewd remark, but Richie relents. “Okay,” he offers and turns around. 

Pushing his pants down quickly. Eddie winces from pain at the dried come sticking to the hair and skin in too sensitive places. After he puts his clean underwear on he says to Richie, “Bet you’re glad I made you bring clean clothes now.”

“Bet you’re glad you didn’t have a backpack hangin’ off you during _Closer.”_

Eddie doesn’t know what to say to that, because it’s a good point, but Richie doesn’t need to know that. Instead, he pulls one of Richie’s sweatshirts over his head. He has his own but he likes the way Richie’s fit him. He finishes getting dressed and rejoices in the warm dry socks that are now on his feet.

“Are we okay?” Richie asks quietly, turning back around to finish dressing.

The corner of Eddie’s mouth crooks up in a smile, “No, I’m pretty sure we’re really fucked up, if you want me to be honest.”

“Yeah, well duh. I already know that.” Richie nudges his shoulder and asks quietly, “I mean, are _we_ okay?”

It’s a fair enough question. Last time he jerked him off Eddie had a justifiable meltdown. He doesn’t feel like that now, though. His heart is beating hard and he feels so awake and alive from the adrenaline of the concert. High off of Richie and how he makes him feel like they can do anything together. “I wouldn’t mind shoving my tongue down your throat, but I guess I can wait until we get back to your house,” Eddie smiles at him boldy.

“Oh, fuck that.” Richie rounds the corner of the van and calls out to the others, “Gotta piss! Don’t leave without us!” Then he’s dragging Eddie across the field.

It’s emptied out more now but there are still cars littered along the field. He finds one far enough away from the van that they can sink behind. With grime in their hair and on their faces, Richie kisses Eddie breathless under the stars in a muddy field in New York with the sound of Metallica pounding in the distance.

The whole day had felt surreal. From Eddie storming out on his mother, to the mud fight with Richie, to seeing, fucking, Chris Farley walking past them like it was nothing. And when _That Song_ finally played, the song Richie had on when they made up after their fight, the one Bev kept playing on the drive, it put him in a trance. The way Richie held him in his arms, the way he made him feel like maybe they had something good between them. Not wrong. Not sick. And even though he _knew_ they shouldn’t, maybe they could get away with it. He wanted Richie’s hands on him because he was going to be gone in a week, so fuck everyone else. 

Despite the filth, the mud, the destroyed shoes (and destroyed pants), this time he didn’t regret a single moment of it.

When they hear the guys calling their names, they pop up from behind the car pulling grass from each other's hair, then make their way back, brushing fingertips as they walk. The gang is dressed and cleaned down as well as can be expected. Besides Stan, the rest are sitting in the van waiting.

Eddie shoots him a questioning glance. 

Stan shrugs, “I wanted my spot. It’s easier to reach my bag in the back.”

“You just wanna check out my ass,” Richie says as he climbs in.

“I’ll leave that to Eddie,” Stan replies dryly. 

Eddie tries not to panic and takes it as good natured ribbing as he climbs into his spot in the middle.

“It pains me to know-” Mike says disgusted, “but there’s not much ass to check out there.”

They’re all laughing as Stan gets in.

Richie leans forward between Mike and Bill and calls out, “Ben, if you want to split up the drive I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep for days!”

Eddie can see Ben smiling in the rearview mirror, “I’ll keep it in mind if I get too tired.”

All of them are hyped the first hour on the road, talking loudly, laughing and already retelling stories from the day.

Ben pulls over at a truck stop where they’re able to clean themselves up in a bathroom with running water. Eddie looks longingly at the showers normally reserved for truckers. He’s dying to get properly clean and get the grit off of his body. He has a wild thought of pushing Richie in there with him and he has a feeling Richie’s thinking the same when they catch each other’s eyes in the mirror. If the way he’s grinning back is any indication, which Eddie knows it is.

Maybe they could.

Maybe he could grab his wrist and pull back the curtain and push Richie inside. 

He’s about to say something. To actually suggest it. Maybe not a shower, but to hide in there and feel his body pressed against him before they leave. Eddie is still wired, feeling reckless and wild and he wants to aim it all at Richie.

He licks his bottom lip and is about to nod towards the shower when Bill walks in. Instead, Eddie swallows back his nerve, finishes washing his hands, and walks out, tightening his fist nervously as he goes.

They eat at the 24-hour diner attached. Richie’s brushing his pinky finger against Eddie’s under the table and it’s too much and not enough all at once. So to stop his twitching hand he has to grab Richie’s glasses from his face halfway through the meal, cleaning the dirt from the lenses. 

“Hey!” Richie cries.

“What the hell did you do? Smear mud around and call it good?” Eddie dips his napkin in the glass of water, “This is fucking disgusting. Do you see how much is coming off?”

“No, asshole. I can’t see shit, I’m blind.”

Everyone laughs as Eddie jams them back onto his face. The way Richie smiles at him, too open, genuine, makes his stomach jump. It’s too obvious and everyone can see what he’s written so plainly there. He offers it up so earnestly making Eddie blush. So he calls him an idiot, steals some of his fries, and bites his lip to keep himself from returning the same smile.

They load up on caffeine and more junk food for the road, then filter back into the van. Derry is still three hours away and it’s definitely going to be morning before they get home. Eddie’s almost relieved he fought with his mom. Walking in looking like he does would be a fight all over again. 

Music is playing softly now and another hour into the drive people start dropping off one by one. Bill and Mike are definitely asleep. Bev’s still talking quietly to Ben in the front but he can’t hear what they’re saying. Eddie reaches behind and fishes out the blanket he stole from Richie’s room. He spreads it over the three of them in the back seat but Stan pushes his side off.

“Aren’t you burning up?” Stan mumbles, then turns back into the window, resting his head against the cool glass, closing his eyes. 

Richie leans back. He wraps his arm around Eddie’s shoulder and pulls him in.

Richie and Stan each have a window and he doesn’t, which is a good justification as any, he figures, so he turns into Richie, resting his head against him. If Eddie weren’t so exhausted he might care how it looks, but there’s no one else awake to notice. 

Despite his exhaustion, and he knows Richie feels the same, he doesn’t want to sleep. He isn’t ready for the day to be over and to have one less with Richie.

Sighing as the thought takes root, he notices Richie’s left hand on top of the blanket. Eddie reaches out to trace his palm. Lightly following the line of his scar, slowly trailing to the tip of his middle finger. Circling around the pad at the top, he turns his own hand over and Richie copies the movement on him. It makes him shiver. 

It's so unlike Richie but he’s so delicate with him when he needs to be.

Richie pushes him past the brink of madness but always knows what to say to bring him back. To calm him. To ease his fears and make him feel invincible when he needs it most. 

“This was a really good idea, Rich,” he whispers. Closing his eyes, he pushes his nose against his neck, the part where he belongs, as Richie holds him tight. Eddie shifts onto his side, wrapping his arm around him in a hug. “I’m gonna remember tonight for the rest of my life.”

He doesn’t mean to start anything. It’s not like he’s trying to tease or torture him. Eddie just needs to feel Richie close, so he kisses the hot pulse of his neck. Then he kisses it again. Then he bites and soothes it with his tongue.

Richie turns his head enough for them to kiss properly and he barely tastes the stale soda from the light sweep of his tongue before Richie’s stopping, whispering, “Eddie, they’ll see.”

“I don’t care.” He’s surprised that he means it.

Eddie brushes his lips against Richie’s again, softer this time, barely breathing over him. Intoxicated from the night, he just wants to be close.

“I do,” Richie closes his eyes like it hurts to say, and puts his head back against the headrest. 

He isn’t mad. Eddie understands. But it still feels like a punch and he wonders if this is how Richie felt after he hit him. He doesn’t recoil. Tucking himself in against Richie’s chest, with their hands entwined, he falls asleep.

When he opens his eyes next, the van is stopping in front of Richie’s house.

Bill, Mike and Stan are all gone. 

He hears Bev tell Ben, “I’ll be over tomorrow- uh, later _today_ to help.” She shuts the door and walks around to the trunk.

“Come on, Eds,” Richie nudges him and they pull themselves out of the van.

Grabbing their things from the back, the three of them drag their feet, kicking their shoes off when they get into Richie’s house. Eddie tries not to miss a step as they make it up to his room, dropping everything to the floor.

“Oh,” Richie says, as he looks at his bed. 

Bev is alreading climbing in and Eddie’s realizing that this is where she sleeps when she’s here.

Eddie looks at Richie because this _does_ feel like a betrayal. He and Richie always share a bed. And even though he tells himself that what they have isn’t anything real, a dark, unspoken part of him is dumb enough to have hope. Maybe it _could_ mean something. Maybe it could be real. But if Richie, who just as easily fucked Bev as he kisses Eddie, opens his bed to her too, then it can’t be.

“Uh,” Richie tries again, “She gets nightmares.”

“Oh my god,” Bev stands up. She grabs Eddie’s arm and drags him closer. Tugging the blankets back enough, she pushes him into the center and settles in after, tucking them in together. “Come on, Rich,” she grumbles.

Richie gets in on the other side, shuffling his feet against Eddie’s. Bev doesn’t take up much room and Richie’s bed is a queen, so there’s enough space for all of them to fit, if not a bit tight. Richie grabs him at the waist and holds him tight, as Eddie turns on his side in his arms. Richie kisses him like Bev isn’t right next to them, like she couldn’t open her eyes and turn around and see exactly what they’re doing. But the sun is up and they’ve been up nearly all night too. And because the time they have left is too precious, Eddie kisses back. 

Eyelids heavy, he adjusts himself further into Richie’s arms and is too exhausted to worry about what Bev might say. He’s battling to stay awake, fighting for more time in Richie’s arms, but eventually he succumbs to sleep.

By the time he wakes, Bev is gone and he’s sweating, drowning in Richie’s sweatshirt he never bothered to take off. Richie’s arm is wrapped around him, loosely now, still holding on. His glasses are at the table at the side of the bed. It must be late afternoon if the way the sun filtering through the window is any indication.

Eddie can see the dirt embedded in Richie’s hair. Neither one was able to make much of a dent in the mess they’d made at the truck stop. Richie moans softly and pushes against him and Eddie notices he’s hard.

Smiling, he leans in and whispers, “Whatcha dreamin’ about, Trashmouth?”

Mumbling, Richie says without moving, “Somethin’ ‘bout your mom.” 

Eddie giggles quietly. Reaching out, he moves the blankets and leans back enough to trace a finger along the length of him, indulging in the hitch in his breath and the soft moan he pulls from Richie.

He’s never done that before, never touched him like that. Too scared of what it means. 

“Mmm, Eds,” Richie smiles. His eyes are still closed but he’s not asleep.

Feeling brave and curious, Eddie lifts the band of Richie’s sweatpants and boxers to see the length of Richie’s hard cock beneath them.

“What are you doin’?” Richie asks, calm and relaxed, voice heavy with sleep. Finally, he opens one eye.

“I want to know if Bev is a dirty liar.”

Laughing quietly as he reaches for his pants, Richie pulls them low enough to expose himself fully, “What’s the verdict, Eds?”

He can’t stop staring. He caught a glimpse outside in the dark last night and he'd felt his dick against him for weeks. But this was the first time he’d really seen it, a fine trail leading to dark hair nestled around the base, and he knows Richie is watching him, but his glasses are on the nightstand which Eddie takes comfort in.

Eddie wants to reachout, feel how firm he is, compare the length of him to himself. But before he tries, he stops. “Do you really want to blow me?” It’s not what he means to ask, but it’s what comes out because it seems like something he needs to know. 

Richie makes a guttural moan, before saying softly, “What do you think I was dreaming about?”

Eddie’s heart races and before he knows what’s happening, Richie is kissing him.

“Stop!” Eddie pushes him away in a panic. “I need a shower. I’m freakin’ gross dude and there’s like, dried jizz probably all over my-”

“Okay!” Richie makes a frustrated grunting sound and pulls the blanket over his head.

“What are you doing?” He grins back, noting the tenting erection that Richie’s unable to hide.

“I’m willing this fucking monster boner away. Jesus Christ, Eddie, you’re gonna kill me,” his muffled voice comes from behind the covers.

“Just, you know, put a pause on the monster boner,” Eddie suggests.

“Oh yeah, fine. Pause the boner. Great idea.”

Eddie smiles as he gets out of bed grabbing his toothbrush from his bag. “Where the hell did Bev go?”

Peeking out from the blankets, Richie says, “To help Ben clean the mud out of his van. I think we fucked it up on the way back. Bev’s a saint.”

“Oh, okay. She's not gonna be back anytime soon?” 

"No," Richie says with a knowing smile. Grabbing his glasses as he sits up, “You wouldn’t, by any chance, like some company in the shower, would you?” 

“No!” Eddie panics.

“How are you gonna get all that mud off your back?”

“I’ll figure it out,” he replies dully, finally leaving Richie’s room.

He’s had sleepovers at Richie's a thousand times, he knows this bathroom like his own, so he helps himself to the towels. Stepping into hot water feels like heaven. He has to wash his hair three times before the grit of the mud fully washes clean. It takes extra will power to pull himself out of the warmth and he spends a much longer time brushing his teeth, partly because he’s worried about what he’s going to find when he leaves the safety of the bathroom. Gathering his courage with only a towel wrapped around his hips, and the balled up clothes he wore in, he leaves the foggy cloud and returns to Richie’s room. 

As he opens the door, Richie’s off of his bed immediately saying, “I already brushed my teeth.” Then he’s pushing against Eddie, mumbling against his lips, “I love it when you’re wet.” 

“Wait, wait,” Eddie pushes him away. “Go take a shower, dude.”

Kissing along his neck, Richie replies, “I want your dick in mouth before you change your mind.”

Grabbing his shoulder, he holds Richie away, “I’m not gonna change my mind. I’m not gonna punch you. You’re getting me dirty. Go take a fucking shower, you smell like shit.”

“I’ll take a shower if you call your mom,” Richie counters. 

“What? No!”

“Eddie, she’s gonna send the cops raining down on us if you don’t.”

“So, what if she does? They can’t force me to go back,” Eddie takes a deep breath.

“You don’t have to go home. Just tell her you’re fine and you’re staying here.”

He knows Richie is right. “Fine,” he huffs.

 _“Then_ I’m gonna swallow your dick.”

“Oh my god!” Eddie pushes him towards the door, “You can’t say that, dude. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Richie’s laughing, and it’s annoying as hell, but he shoves him down the hall towards the bathroom. Returning to Richie’s room, he quickly pulls clean clothing on. He wanders through the house to find the phone in the kitchen. It’s always so quiet here and Eddie wonders if that’s why Richie’s so loud. If the overwhelming need to take up space is to prove to someone he’s actually there. 

Taking a deep breath, he dials home. 

Sonia picks up immediately, shrieking, _“Eddie?!”_

“I’m fine, Ma,” he sighs, preparing himself for the barrage of loaded neurosis about to fire at him.

He listens to ten minutes of her pleading sobs to come home. It’s the absolute last thing he wants to do but the guilt gets to him eventually. It always does. Finally, he agrees to return the next day and she seems to accept it. 

When he hangs up he feels tense. His chest hurts and he hates that the last few days are tainted with anger from his mother’s overbearing nature. Curling into Richie is the only thing he wants to worry about. 

As he walks back through the house he hears the shower still running, so he goes back into Richie’s room and lies on his bed. Thoughts are running in every direction, and he can’t stop his brain from spilling over. He wants to pull his hair out. It feels like he can’t hold everything back, from the way his mother treats him to being alone for the first time in his life when he leaves for school. He wonders if maybe she’s right? Maybe he can’t do it on his own, despite the desperation he feels for freedom that is finally within reach. But the worst is when he thinks about leaving Richie.

Before this summer, maybe it could have been fine. But now? Now that he knows how it can feel to have someone wrap their arms around him and kiss him until he doesn’t have a single fear, how is he supposed to give that up? Not just someone, but _Richie._

Then again, he doesn’t even know what this means to him. It’s probably nothing. It’s probably just something to pass the time until they go. He can't stop thinking about the way Richie said sleeping with Bev didn’t mean a thing, so why would he be any different? And he knows it isn’t fair of him to expect more.

He rubs his eyes. The sun is filtering into the room. It’s midday and looks warm out, the last remnants of summer before autumn hits. The death of too hot days before school, and he’s so goddamn tired of thinking about it. He only wants to enjoy the time he has left. 

The door creaks open slowly and Richie’s standing there with a towel slung low around his hips. Dark hair weighed down from water, and his ridiculous glasses with his too big eyes staring back at him. And Eddie loves him.

Eddie fucking _loves_ him. 

The realization of it settles into his chest, making his heart pound too hard, like he can’t remember how to breathe. But Richie’s just shooting him an easy crooked smile like everything will be okay. Eddie so desperately wants to believe it, but they’re leaving. They’re all leaving and he’ll be alone and how could anything possibly be okay if he doesn’t have Richie? 

“Hey,” Richie greets softly, closing the door behind him as he grips the towel in his other hand tightly.

Eddie’s trying to make himself talk, but he can’t get his voice to work.

“Shit. Did the call go that bad?” Richie asks as he walks to his dresser.

Despite looking earlier, Eddie glances away, blushing, as Richie pulls out boxers and steps into them.

“No. I mean, you know, the usual,” Eddie replies, closing his eyes.

He feels the weight of the bed dip as Richie gets on. “Is everything okay?” His voice is so quiet when he asks.

He nods, not knowing what else to say. Yesterday was the best day of his life and now it’s like nothing will be okay again. 

“Can you just-” he finds himself saying, “Just make me forget we’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” Richie says quietly. “Yeah, I can do that.”

And he does. He kisses him until he forgets. Until his heart pounds so hard he wonders if Richie can feel it too. He’s in awe of the way Richie makes him feel. 

Kissing softly down his neck, Richie nips at his collar bone. He sucks at tender flesh and Eddie hopes like hell it leaves a mark. He likes the way the darkened bruises stand out against his skin and the constant reminder that Richie is responsible for it. 

Richie’s hand gently passes over his pebbling nipple and when he squeezes, just on the side of too rough, Eddie pants a sigh. It’s a straight line to his dick when Richie sucks on it, and Eddie can feel his cock fill, plump with interest, then Richie pinches the other one again.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, then bites his bottom lip to silence himself. 

When Richie’s hand moves down and grips his hip, he bucks up, knowing his intentions, finally hopeful in anticipation, instead of guilt or dread.

Richie kisses along his ribs and moves himself lower, tickling Eddie’s stomach as his tongue traces along the fine hairs below his navel. 

“I really want you to come down my throat.”

“What?” Eddie lifts his head. And he really shouldn’t, because the sight of Richie between his legs, lips wet, red and full, looking back at him through his crooked glasses, is enough to lose his load.

“I want to taste your jizz. I don’t know how to say it any clearer than that.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“You still okay with me sucking your dick or did you change your mind?” Richie’s teasing along the band of his shorts and Eddie is trying his damnedest to have a functioning thought. “Eds?” Richie tries again with a wry smile.

“Uh, huh. Yeah.”

His grin turns insufferable as he licks his lips, “Not gonna kick the shit out of me for it?”

“Depends on how good you are at choking on my dick.”

Richie drops his head and laughs, “Fuck. I felt that one. Got me full mast, Eddie. Almost flooded my basement.”

Eddie doesn’t have time to reply as Richie’s hand rubs over his shorts. His head drops back to the bed and he closes his eyes as he feels Richie fumble with his zipper until he’s pushing clothing away enough to pull out his dick.

“Jesus, Eddie,” Richie whispers. 

Eddie opens his eyes just in time to watch as Richie licks the length of his cock. He can’t fucking believe that Richie’s mouth is on him. That he _wants_ to do this to him. His tongue is swirling patterns around his dick and Richie’s gripping him tight enough to make him gasp, revelling in the pleasure of it.

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, Eds.”

Richie’s tongue is teasing around his tip and Eddie can’t take it. His head drops back to the pillow and a hand finds its way to Richie’s head. He takes him into his mouth and Eddie gasps from the heat of it, so hot and tight around him. It’s the best fucking thing in the world. The reverence he feels as Richie knows exactly what to do to him, the swelling in his heart. He’s light headed and his chest is heaving as he’s trying to slow his breathing, fighting for any kind of control.

Only he doesn’t want it. With Richie’s hollowed out cheeks bobbing over him and his fist pumping him, he knows he won’t last. How the hell is he supposed to when he can feel Richie moaning with his lips wrapped around his cock?

Eddie grips his hair tight in his fist, “Richie, I can’t-” 

He doesn’t really know what he’s trying to tell him, but Richie seems to understand. He hums around him until Eddie’s squirming back, pushing his hips up, trying to fuck further into Richie’s mouth. All he can think is of how much he loves him. He fucking loves Richie so goddamn much, and Richie might just love him back too if he’s willing to do this for him.

“Ah,” he cries, thrusting again. He’s so close and it hasn’t been long at all, but he can’t hold it. Richie’s mouth is too hot and tight and fuck! He’ll never forget the way he looks between his legs. 

With his eyes closed tight, he pushes his hips once again, writhing beneath Richie, then feels the familiar pulse, tightening as he comes in Richie’s mouth just like he wanted.

Eddie is panting, and sweating, and he lifts his hand up in time to see Richie lifting his head, looking directly at him.

Richie wipes at his lip, then moves to sit on the edge of the bed with his hand tucked inside his boxers and he’s pulling himself off, keeping his eyes on Eddie's body.

Eddie feels boneless, like he’s watching something outside of himself as Richie jerks off and cries out with a quiet sigh into the fist in his boxers. 

As he takes his hand out, Eddie asks quietly, “What’s it taste like?”

Richie licks his lip, “Not so bad.” It sounds like a joke, but he’s not laughing.

Eddie’s curious so he sits up, tucking his limp dick back in as he slides next to Richie. He grabs his hand and studies it. He thinks, maybe if he does this, maybe Richie will know how much he loves him, because he can't say it.

“You’re not gonna-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie interrupts.

He brings Richie’s hand up to his face and smells. Cautiously, he sticks his tongue out and swipes at his knuckle coated with come. Richie’s right, it’s not so bad.

“Fuck. Eddie Kaspbrak just tasted my spunk.”

Eddie pushes his hand away, “Shut up. You swallowed my whole load.”

“And I’d do it again.”

Smiling knowingly, “Give me a little while and I’m sure we can arrange it.”

Richie groans and wipes his hands on his boxers. Standing from his bed, he goes to the dresser to find clean underwear, and this time Eddie doesn’t look away as he changes.

“We have to go to the Clubhouse soon. Ben’s taking Bev home. It’s probably-” Richie stops.

“The last time we’ll see her in a while?” Eddie adds.

“Yeah,” Richie picks other clothing to change into and Eddie never once looks away.

He knows what Richie’s thinking. Eddie’s thinking the same. They have only days left together. They’ve been together nearly their whole lives and Eddie’s been avoiding thinking about it all summer. Saying goodbye to Bev will be hard, but they’ve done it before.

When the time comes to say goodbye to the others, it’ll be harder still.

But when Eddie needs to leave Richie for the last time, he doesn’t know how he’ll make it through.

**Richie**

Eddie spends the night.

Eddie sleeps in his bed.

Those two things aren’t remarkable but Eddie lets Richie hold him, and touch him, and kiss him. And he doesn’t run. He doesn’t hit him. He moans all breathless, and sighs against his lips like he can’t get enough of Richie, even though Richie doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. But it doesn’t matter, because afterwards Eddie holds onto him so tight, like he never wants to let go. And the only part of all of it that Richie can’t bear is that they could have had this so much sooner.

They could have had this for years.

When he finally says goodbye to him Richie has to fight back tears the entire time. Bite back confessions, because Eddie already knows, doesn’t he? He _has_ to know. 

Richie’s loved him for too many years for him not to.

Eddie has to go home to pack. And fuck, Richie really needs to too.

The short days have passed and now it’s time. He’s leaving tomorrow. He’s packed his shit and his room doesn’t look like his room anymore. Empty. Barren. Unlived in, like he was never there. Just another room with a bed in a huge quiet house. 

Eddie’s room probably looks just as empty. 

Richie hasn’t seen him in days and his heart aches from it. 

They said their goodbyes. The ones he’d given the Losers were difficult enough, but how the hell is he ever going to let go of Eddie? He’s been trying for years and hasn’t succeeded yet.

Climbing off of his bed, he gives himself a look over in the mirror. He’s still gangly and thin. His hair is too long and his shoulders curve in from all his practice hunching over to be closer to Eddie. 

He needs to get out of this fucking town.

Long legs carry him down the stairs, to his car, and behind the wheel he drives to Eddie’s house. It’s dark. Late enough for Mrs. K to be asleep, he hopes. 

He needs to see him.

Parking his car a few houses away, Richie walks the rest of the way to his house. He climbs up the side, probably for the last time, he recognizes, and taps gently on the window. There’s a glow in the window of his room but the blinds are closed. 

He waits, because he has to. He needs to see Eddie one more time.

The blinds finally open and he sighs in relief while he backs away enough for Eddie to lift the window.

Richie doesn’t say a thing as he climbs in, and once both feet land on his floor, Eddie’s mouth is on his again. He’s walking Richie backwards until his legs hit the bed, then Eddie’s pushing him until he falls back on it.

Eddie’s weight is on him, hands pushing up his shirt which Richie yanks off, taking his glasses with it, tossing them both carelessly to the floor. Richie watches as Eddie leans back, throwing his own shirt off the bed. 

Eddie’s straddling his hips, sitting against his hard dick. Richie hates that he can’t see well enough, but he knows his body. His hands start at Eddie’s hips then trace a path up his ribs. The pad of his thumbs feeling each bump as they go, brushing against his nipples, Richie loves the way his breath hitches, until finally his palm rests against Eddie’s heart. He can feel how hard it’s pumping. Thumping hard and strong as Eddie’s grinding down on his cock.

He’s never done this before, he’s barely ever touched Richie, but now Eddie’s writhing on top of him, wanton and eager like he needs it. 

_Richie’s_ needs it.

His hands drop to Eddie’s shorts, unzipping as fast as his fingers can manage. Eddie swats his hand away and climbs off. 

Pouting, Richie’s about to protest, but Eddie’s voice scratches out, “Take that off.” It’s gravely and dark and he’s ordering Richie around like he always does, but it’s different. With a confidence Richie never knew he possessed and it goes straight to his dick. Then Eddie pushes down his own shorts and steps out of them. 

Richie really regrets losing his glasses, but he does as he’s told, squirming out of his jeans and boxers. Before he can feel insecure, Eddie is on top of him. 

Eddie is naked and on top of him and kissing him like he'll die if they're not touching.

His cock is brushing against Richie’s and Richie has to arch his back away from Eddie’s mouth to catch his breath. But Eddie just moves to his neck. Biting and sucking bruises into his skin, he thrusts against Richie’s cock. And Richie’s pretty sure he is dying.

This isn’t something they do. _Eddie_ doesn’t do this.

Richie’s either dead or Eddie’s possessed but whatever the hell is happening, Richie won’t stop it.

Eddie kisses down his neck and finds his nipple. He licks out, teasing Richie. Fucking teasing him like their entire lives wasn’t enough already. But then he’s sucking on it and Richie cries softly, back lifting as he pushes into Eddie’s mouth.

But too quickly his hot mouth is gone and Richie’s pretty sure he whimpers from the loss.

“I think this will work,” Eddie says, but Richie doesn't know what the hell he’s talking about, he just wants his mouth on him again.

Richie’s burning hot. He hears a clicking sound and watches Eddie hovering back over his dick with a bottle, squeezing.

“Fucking shit!” Richie hisses, “The fuck is that? Ice water, you fucking dick.”

Eddie’s laughing, “Aloe vera. Stop being such a baby.”

“Make me.”

Eddie’s already climbing back on top of him. With a hesitant hand, he reaches for Richie’s dick, giving it an experimental pull. 

“Fuck, Eds. I’m not gonna last long. Do you know what you look like?”

Eddie laughs, “Do _you_ know what I look like? You’re blind dude.”

“I have a great imagination,” he can’t concentrate on more past that. 

He’s so fucking hard and Eddie’s hand is on his cock, and fuck, he never thought this would happen. 

Only Eddie has something else in mind. Grabbing Richie’s hand, he guides it between them until Richie’s holding both their cocks in his grasp.

“Jesus, fuck, Eddie.”

He pulls them off together, fist trying to hold around both of them, and Eddie’s bucking against him as he leans over and kisses Richie.

“Eddie,” he pleads against his lips. “Eds, Eds, I can’t- I’m gonna-” he doesn’t know what he’s saying he just knows he never wants this to end but he’s too far gone.

“Oh God, Rich. Yeah, just like that,” Eddie’s thrusting into his fist.

Richie tries to stay in that moment with Eddie, he holds on for as long as he can, stroking them both, but Eddie’s fucking his hand, grinding against his dick. _Eddie._ _His_ Eddie. And he can’t. He’s falling apart beneath his sharp gasps, and boney hips, coming over his stomach.

“Fuck, Richie,” Eddie’s head drops to his shoulder.

Richie knows that sigh, that keening sob, and the way he bites his bottom lip and furrowing his brow, just a little, before he’s finally coming, painting Richie white.

“Fuck,” Eddie sighs, dropping himself half on top of him.

Scratching up his back, Eddie shivers. For once he has no idea what the hell he should say, so he kisses Eddie’s cheek. He brushes his hair off to the side, and kisses him again.

Eddie finally shifts off of him. He reaches his arm out and pulls himself close to Richie, placing his head on his shoulder. He doesn’t say a thing about the mess between them, which makes Richie nervous. If Eddie’s not complaining, it’s bad.

“I’ll be back in December,” Richie finally whispers, “Only a few months away.”

“Yeah, Rich,” he replies, but his voice sounds so sad.

“Eddie,” Richie pleads, turning on the mattress until he can kiss him properly. “Eddie, I don’t know how to make this better.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie sighs, “I’m just gonna miss you is all.”

“Miss the blow jobs, you mean.” He knows that’s not what he means.

“A dick in your mouth _does_ shut you up,” Eddie teases back. 

Richie laughs as he kisses him, “Eds. Eduardo. Eddie my love.”

“What?” Eddie says impatiently.

“I’m covered in jizz.”

Eddie looks down between them, “Not a bad look on you.”

“It’s really fuckin’ gross, dude. Go get me something to wipe it off or I’m using your shirt.”

“Ugh,” Eddie groans, lifting himself from the bed.

Richie reaches over, feeling around for his glasses on the floor then pushes them back on his face in time to see Eddie step into his boxers. He tiptoes quietly out of his room and Richie has a chance to really look around.

It’s boxed up too. Not as obvious as Richie’s, he won’t be as far from Derry, but it still makes his chest clench to see Eddie’s room like this. He’s known this room for most of his life and feels more upset to leave this one behind than his own.

When Eddie returns, Richie is still lying naked on his bed, covered in come and sweat, and now he can see the way Eddie’s looking at him. Heavy lidded, mouth slightly open.

“Lick it up, baby. Lick. It. Up.” Richie tucks his hands behind his head.

Eddie scoffs but blushes, throwing a wet towel at his chest. He turns away when he asks, “Did you even like that movie?”

“Killing off all the assholes in school? Uh, yeah. Sign me up. Bowers got off easy.” Richie leans up and wipes himself clean. He throws the wet towel to the floor and grabs his boxers, sliding back into them. “I guess he did a lot of the work too, though, fucking killing all his friends. Should he get credit for that?”

“That’s fucked up, dude.” 

_“I’m_ fucked up, dude.”

“Yeah, you are,” Eddie shoves him over, fitting in next to him on the bed. “So, why’d you come?”

“It probably had something to do with our dicks rubbing together,” Richie smiles, intentionally obtuse.

Eddie elbows him hard in the side, “Why are you _here?_ I thought we already said goodbye.”

Richie finds Eddie’s left hand, it’s so familiar now in his as he traces his scar. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me either,” Eddie admits, threading their fingers together. “This really fucking sucks, Rich.”

“I know,” he sighs. “Look, I’ll be back for Christmas. And then, I dunno. Spring break? It’ll go by fast.”

“My mom’s looking into buying a house near my university.”

“Fuck, Eddie. Are you serious?”

Eddie nods.

“Shit. I’m sorry, dude.”

“I don’t know if she _will._ She just talked about it.”  
  
“So, you won’t be coming back to Derry?”

“Not if she moves.”

Richie can’t think about that. He rolls on his side, nuzzling into Eddie, squeezing their hands together. 

“Have you ever thought about transferring?” Richie asks quietly.

“I can’t afford your school, dude.”

“There are always loans-”

“I don’t have the _grades_ and I don’t know if I want to leave the East Coast,” Eddie pulls his hand from Richie’s to rub his face. Then asks, “What about you?”

“Yeah, maybe. I dunno,” Richie really needs to get the hell as far away from Derry as he can. But he doesn’t have the heart to tell Eddie that.

There’s a lump in Richie’s throat. He’s on the verge of confessing everything. Telling Eddie how much he loves him, how he can’t live without him, and if Eddie feels the same then maybe he can stay. Fuck it, he’ll drop out of school and find a job. Find a way. He’d do that for Eds. If that’s what he wants. He’s about to squeal every single one of his dirty secrets. The way Eddie’s hand in his makes Richie’s heart thunder in his chest. How their first kiss was the best goddamn moment of his life. He wants to tell him about their initials he carved on the bridge, so even when they leave, something permanent of them both will stay behind. 

But he can’t fucking do it. 

He’s a coward. 

Instead he asks, “Have you ever told anyone, you know, about-” Richie closes his eyes, _“us?”_ He doesn’t even know what that means, but he asks all the same.

“No. Fuck no,” Eddie sounds panicked. 

“Not even Stan?”

“No. Have you?”

“Bev, kind of.” Richie hurries to add, “Not about _you._ Just, you know, that I liked someone. A... guy.” It shouldn’t be so hard to admit, not to Eddie. He’s had his dick in his mouth. They just got off rubbing against each other, obviously he likes him. “That’s why, with the mixed tape-” he sighs, _“Nancy Boy,_ _It’s Raining Men_ … surprised you didn’t notice the theme.”

“Shit, that’s right!” Eddie chuckles quietly. “I got _Like a Virgin.”_

“Bev’s such a dick,” Richie says fondly. 

“She doesn’t know about me?”

“Well, I mean, she was in bed with us when we were making out so she might have figured out something was up.”

“Fuck, that was dumb.”

“Kind of hot, though. I’m gonna miss it,” Richie kisses him.

Eddie sighs against his lips, “Me too.” 

“Okay, Eds. Question time. You, me, Bev. Threesome. You in?”

“What?” Eddie laughs.

“Yeah. We could Eiffel Tower her. What do you say?”

Eddie thinks about it and laughs, “Sure, Richie.” 

Richie recognizes his humored sarcasm, but plays into it anyway, “Oh my god, really? You kinky shit.”

“Oh come on, you wouldn’t? It’s _Bev._ ”

“No, I wouldn’t, actually. I guess if it’s the only way to have sex with you then I could probably figure it out.”

“But, you _already_ fucked her.”

“Yeah, well,” Richie doesn’t know what to say, “that was different.” Dismissing it quickly, he deflects, “Okay, gun to your head, you have to pick one of the other Losers. Not Bev. Who do you pick?”

“This is such a stupid game,” Eddie shakes his head. 

“You, me, and Ben it is.”

“No!” Eddie insists.

“Bill, right? Come on. You can tell me,” Richie teases. “He’s got that leading man quality about him. Like, effortlessly knows what to do and knows how to take control. I got your number, Eds.”

“Not Bill.” Eddie’s quiet, he practically whispers, “Stan.”

“Stanley?!”

“What’s wrong with Stan?”

“Nothing!” Richie shrugs, “I just thought- I don’t know what I thought.”

“Okay. Your turn.”

“Bill.” Richie answers too quickly.

“Bill?”

“Yeah, he’s got that leading man quality about him. Keep up, Eddie.”

Eddie’s chuckling softly and Richie holds onto him tighter. 

“You’d really have sex with Bill?”

“I dunno, gun to my head, I’d figure it out.”

“Would it take a gun to your head to have sex with me?”

“We’ve _had_ sex, Eddie,” Richie whispers. “Kind of. Sort of. Definitely wouldn't take a gun.”

“Does that mean I’m your favorite?” Eddie teases.

“Duh, dude. Unlike some people, I’m not putting Stan’s dick in my mouth.” It warms his heart to hear Eddie’s laughter. “I can stay here tonight, right?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes against his neck. 

They kick and elbow their way to fit under the blankets. Richie remembers when he was the one to curl around Eddie, to fit in on his small bed by any means necessary because it meant they were close. But now Eddie is the one to snake his arms around Richie’s waist, and rest his head on his shoulder. And Richie can wrap his arms around him without fear.

No matter what happens, no matter where they end up or what their future holds, Richie knows they’ll always have their memories of their last summer together in the wicked little town that changed them all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Titles of the fics in this series are lyrics from Wicked Little Town from the Hedwig and the Angry Inch soundtrack.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Kudos and comments mean everything to me. I appreciate anyone who has taken the time to comment. 💗 Truly. Feedback is one of the best motivators to understand if you should continue writing or if you're screaming into the void, and anyone who has encouraged me along the way I hope you understand how grateful I am for it.
> 
> Part two will continue (everyone lives, post-canon) the Epic Romance of R+E!


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